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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24608887">However Improbable</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxBlackDahliaxXx/pseuds/xXxBlackDahliaxXx'>xXxBlackDahliaxXx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Demons, Different Meeting, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, FxF, Humans, Immortals, M/M, Magic, MxM - Freeform, OC pairings, Pre-ArmyJohn, Slow Burn, Some Smut In-Between, Supernatural - Freeform, Younger John, Younger Sherlock, a little ooc, did I mention AU?, fae, first person POV, mxf, mythical creatures, shape-shifters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:55:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24608887</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxBlackDahliaxXx/pseuds/xXxBlackDahliaxXx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(AU. Set in a world where Immortals live under the guise of humanity, and have done so since the dawn of time.)</p><p>"I left because they were afraid of me. I stayed because he wasn't."</p><p>John had been outcast, sent away from the only home he has ever known. Thrust into the madness of London, he is suddenly surrounded by Immortals the likes he has never known. But he is determined to find a home within the chaos, and it seems to be going well. No one has questioned him. No one has thought about the vague answers he gives when he's questioned about his life. No one has seen more than they want to see.</p><p>That is, until, John meets one Sherlock Holmes.</p><p>But there is more happening around them than they realise. More Immortals missing. More brawls in the daylight. Something has drawn them together, and something else wants to tear them apart.</p><p> </p><p>*ON TEMPORARY HOLD. My sincere apologies but I've had to put this story on hold as I've currently just had an original story signed on Dreame and I am currently working on that. I will be back to this as soon as I can. Much love!*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Johnlock, OC Pairings - Relationship, Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Big Wide World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! Thanks for your interest in this fic! Its something I've had on my mind for a while now and have only just found the time to get into it. So firstly, I haven't done any writing in a long while and i hope it's not too clunky. Also, yes I'm aware that it might be a little OOC. That's the point. This is pre-war John. It's different in a lot of aspects, but similar as well. Please let me know what you think! I like constructive critisism, but don't be mean. f you don't like, then just don't read. Thanks!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>Excerpt from ‘The Book of Immortality’ by No One</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Chapter Five - Fae</em> </b>
</p><p><em> I </em> <em> t is a common misconception that the Fae are docile, delicate creatures. Set together by their likeness, each subspecies of Fae are different in both ability and appearance. Some, such as the Elvenae (see page 55 for more on </em> <b> <em>Elvenae</em> </b> ) <em> are graceful in features and spirit. However, others such as the Valkaerie (see page 60 for more on </em> <b> <em>Valkaerie</em> </b> <em> ) may be striking in appearance, but are born warriors. Their strength is almost unmatched by other Immortals, despite their small stature. Many have learned over the course of history not to assume anything of the Fae by appearance alone, as this can be fatal.  </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> The wind rustled past my ears, throwing my fringe into my eyes. But I didn’t notice them, except for the gentle brush of the strands against my lashes. The yearning need in my bones kept my legs moving swiftly, jumping over roots and twisting underbrush. The chill of the night was kept at bay by the steady work of my muscles, and despite the raw burning in my lungs, I couldn't slow down.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was an itch under my skin, a nagging tingle that drove my legs harder. I felt as though my body was screaming, my skin quivering atop muscles and veins. It was a howling need, a desperate want.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I ran faster, the world around me nothing but a blur. I ran until my lungs refused to accept any more oxygen, until my mind was blank. I stumbled on a loose root, my body flying forward with my momentum. The dark, solid silhouette of a tree trunk sped towards me, so fast and sudden and there was nothing I could do and I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain - </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I gasped as my body was lurched  forward. I blinked as I threw my head around, my senses heightened from the remnants of my dream. The stale stink of cheap coffee and someone’s tuna sandwich flooded my nose and I scowled, leaning back heavily on the hard seat. </p><p>My breath was coming in sharp gasps and I clenched my jaw, focusing on the steady intake of my breath, holding out the exhale until my racing heart complied, finally starting to calm.</p><p><em> “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen,” </em> buzzed the tinny and bored voice of the conductor over the intercom. I turned my head, trying to hear the announcement over the din of the carriage. <em> “Our next stop is Bristol Temple Meads, please disembark here for trains to London and Cardiff. Please make sure you’ve got all your luggage...” </em></p><p>I tuned out at that point, instead turning to the slip of paper folded on my lap. I sighed, opening it up and looking over the chicken-scratch handwriting. </p><p>
  <em> Exeter St. Davids - 10am </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Change at BTM - 12.05pm </em>
</p><p>
  <em> London Paddington - leaves at 12.44 </em>
</p><p>I licked my lower lip as I read and reread the writing again and again. I knew that I knew, but travelling on a train was a first for me. Not that it was particularly hard to do, but there were a lot of people, new smells and sounds. It was throwing me off a little, and not for the first time since I left home, my left arm itched. </p><p>I rubbed the inside of my forearm idly as I read through the other notes. </p><p>
  <em> Underground to Miles End - meet ‘Gino’.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Interview for St Bart’s on Friday at 12 </em>
</p><p><em> Don’t tell anyone where I’m from. Mark will </em> <strong> <span class="u"> <em>hurt</em> </span> </strong> <em> .  </em></p><p>I snorted under my breath at that. I winced as my arm burned, and a quick glance around to make sure no one was looking… I pulled up the sleeve of my jacket, revealing the dark crimson markings running along the inside of my forearm, from wrist to elbow. </p><p>The marks looked ancient. Well, they were. Sigils and runes from a language older than humanity, they were now a permanent reminder that I was an outcast. Shunned from the only home I had ever known, through no fault of my own. </p><p>I sighed heavily, pulling down my sleeve and flopping back. The world was rushing past me, a blur of lush rolling hills and the stark grey of civilisation. The further we got towards my destination however, the less green I could see. Instead it was all sharp buildings and high windows. It reminded me of home, a little. Although there was always vegetation and flowers growing in <em> Cathair Mór </em>. </p><p>I let my eyes flutter closed for a moment, listening to the sound of my breath as I exhaled, and the flare of my nostrils as I inhaled. The anger and resentment was still there, festering away inside me. It was getting more potent the further I travelled, crimping around the edges of my mind, pulling taught at my emotions. </p><p>The sudden jolt of the train brought my attention back and I opened my eyes to see the rushing of faces as they stood on the opposite platform. There were shops and a multitude of coffee shops behind the waiting passengers, but no one seemed to notice. I shuffled to my feet and grabbed my small bag from the overhead compartment. I could feel people brushing past me, some more polite than others. </p><p>I stepped into my empty seat, letting the people go past first and trying to make myself as small and unnoticeable as possible. </p><p>I kept my eyes cast down, even as a soft, earthy smell filled my senses. I could feel eyes on me but I resisted the urge to look. Just because I recognised the scent of a Fae, didn’t mean I had to acknowledge it. Small and unassuming - that was what I had to be. It had been drilled into my brain for so long that I would be spitting out compliance at this rate. </p><p>The scent finally passed and the crowd cleared enough for me to tag onto the end, following the shuffling of feet out of the carriage and onto the platform. There was no reprieve here from the wash of humans, but I didn’t mind too much. Humans weren’t the problem here. I could fit in with them easy enough, because their senses weren’t as sharpened as my own and they only really saw what they wanted to see. </p><p>To them, I was just an unassuming man in a dark canvas jacket and jeans, carrying my bag over my shoulder and pottering about my day. </p><p>But it was the others I could see. Those walking amongst the crowd, wearing their camouflage like a blanket and sweeping in-between ignorant people who just didn’t know any better. </p><p>Their scent, the smell of coffee and sweat and immortality - it clawed at me, squeezing my senses and making me shudder. Too many. There were too many people. </p><p>I kept my shoulders back and chin up as I marched with determination towards a green sign that flashed ‘Exit’. I didn’t know whether I could go back in, or how long I had until my connection. But it didn’t matter. </p><p>I pushed through the final barrier into the rushing street lining the train station. Cars flew by, people walked with determination. But the sky was bigger here, there was less concrete pressing down on me. The people were too far away to invade my senses, and I pressed my back to the side of the building. I let my head fall back against the rough stone, my eyes fluttering closed as I carefully controlled my breathing. </p><p>“Bit overwhelmin', ain’t it?”</p><p>My head snapped up and my eyes flew open, alert. It took me a moment to notice the petite woman stood a few paces away, her back to the station and a lit cigarette twisting smoke into the air. I blinked a few times, before I inhaled through my nose. </p><p>Her scent came to me, deep and bold, like aged wine. There was something acrid to it too, something bittersweet. The woman chuckled to herself, taking another long drag on her cigarette. I looked her over, taking in her bright red hair and matching lips. She wore a knee-length beige coat with shiny black heels, and I could just see the collar of a black jumper peeking from under the collar. There was a black briefcase by her feet, and she had her arms resting around her waist. </p><p>Her features were soft and youthful, but even I knew that looks could be deceiving. She didn’t give off a young vibe, and I realised that this was the first Immortal I had spoken to since leaving home. </p><p>“You’re a young’un, ain’t ya?” she said, her crimson lips curving at the edges. I cleared my throat before I nodded once, sharply, and I watched as the woman’s eyes suddenly flashed like mirrors. </p><p>“Don’t look so scared, love. Country boys like you get along just fine in the cities. So many of us ‘av been dragged down by time and monotony - so lads’ like you are a breath of fresh air. You’ll find people to take care of ya. Just don’t jump every time you see one of us, eh? You’ll cause an insult like that, you will.” </p><p>She gave me a white smile before she took another quick drag of her cigarette and flicked it to the curb. Picking up her briefcase, the stranger gave me another quick smirk before she turned into the station and was swallowed up by the crowd. </p><p>I frowned, biting on the inside of my lip as I tried to make sense of what she had said. Was it supposed to be comforting? I didn’t need looking after. Yes, it was all new and I was quite overwhelmed. But I could adapt, because I’d done it before. This would be no different. Just time and familiarisation. That was all I needed. </p><p>Feeling comforted by my own thoughts, I squared my shoulders and marched back into the station, determined to face my new set of challenges head on. </p>
<hr/><p>“S’not much, but it’s warm enough. And cheap. You won’t find a studio as cheap and in good a nick like this anywhere else.”</p><p>My eyes flickered up to the man hovering by the doorway, and I just about managed to hide a grimace. He was short and fat, his stomach bulging out of his coppery silken shirt. It was buttoned way too low, and wisps of faded black chest hair curled around the edges of the material. </p><p>I had thought people like that were exaggerated in the films, but the man was the cliche in a nutshell. A thick black beard and bald head, complete with cheap gold chains and stale cologne. I half expected the man to sell me a rug on my way out. </p><p>“So, you want it?” demanded the man, his accent close to cockney but still laced with the curve of his mother-tongue at the edges. </p><p>“Don’t really have a choice,” I responded, turning my head away as this Gino faced me. </p><p>“Well I got plenty of other students wanting it and the only reason I haven’t given it to ‘em yet is ‘cos your friend already paid the deposit. That’s none refundable, by the way.”</p><p>I clucked my tongue before I nodded, slinging my bag on the rickety single bed. </p><p>“Good. Rent is due on Mondays, and I won’t take any excuses. If you can’t pay, you can get out. Here’s the key,” he added, setting said key atop the small desk opposite the bed. “Do not get them cut. If I find out you got other people staying here then you’re out. Oh, and if I see any pets you’re out. No drugs or smoking, cos you’ll be-”</p><p>“Let me guess - out?”</p><p>The man snapped his mouth shut and I gave him a level, unimpressed look. Something in Gino’s appearance faltered, his eyes widening as his fat neck sunk further into his shoulders. It was a natural human instinct, the fight or flight. Thankfully, he chose flight. With one more dark glare my way, the man straightened his spine and left. The echo of the door ricocheted around the empty room, and I let out a hard breath between my lips. </p><p>I scanned the studio apartment again, but it didn’t get any better. </p><p>The front door opened just next to the desk, and the bed was pushed against the opposite wall. There was a bedside table, but it didn’t match the small chest of drawers at the end of the bed. Further down the room was a tiny kitchenette with two counters - one with a sink and the other clear. There was a space for a fridge, but there wasn’t one. No cooker, either. The door to the left of the kitchenette opened into a bathroom so small that the door wouldn’t even open fully. </p><p>The toilet was to the left of the door, with a sink in front of it, and on the right was a shower. Well, more of a box that let semi-warm water dribble out of it. </p><p>Tiny, frayed, but at least it was kind of clean. I sighed and sat on the edge of my bed, looking around the space without really seeing anything.</p><p>My mind wandered back to my own room, back in <em> Cathair </em>. It hadn’t been much bigger, but there was so much depth to it. Scrapes in the walls from the many times I’d moved my furniture around to play games. Stains on the wooden floorboards from spilling drinks and medical concoctions. The chair to my desk, imprinted in the shape of my arse from the hours I would sit there, pouring over books and ancient tomes. </p><p>That room had been my life. So many days and hours sat alone, studying or watching the other kids from the window as they played games in the school gardens. </p><p>I ground my teeth, my jaw clenching from the force of the anger that invaded my senses. A lifetime I’d spent there, growing alongside the others and yet always standing apart. </p><p>Huffing out a breath, I flopped back onto the mattress, my limbs heavy. Travelling hadn’t necessarily been hard, but I was absolutely shattered. If my stomach wasn’t growling at me, I probably would have just rolled over and gone to sleep. </p><p>But I needed to find something to eat, and I should probably get the lay of the land. </p><p>As I got to my feet and tucked my new key into my pocket, there were three quick knocks at my door, followed by a quiet whisper. I frowned, standing behind the door and listening. It wasn’t Gino - they didn’t smell quite right. There was more hurried whispering, before another quick knock.</p><p>“Uh, hello? Hello, hi! My name is Natalie, and I’m from upstairs. I, ah, we’ve come to introduce ourselves.”</p><p>
  <em> We? </em>
</p><p>“We um noticed… <em> you </em> , when you stepped into the building. We don’t have any others like ah, <em> us </em> in the building so we had to come say hello!”</p><p>“Just undo the lock,” whispered another voice hurriedly.  </p><p>“No you can’t just break into someone else’s house!”</p><p>“Come on, I want to meet him!”</p><p>I frowned, but I had to admit I was intrigued by the strangers. I could smell something earthen coming through the door. Like bay leaves and marjoram, with a hint of sweet apple. Maybe ginger. </p><p>I pulled the door open, and two young women stood to attention. They both smiled, brightly and a little maniacally. </p><p>“Oh you’re a Fae!” said the one to the left, and I found myself looking them over. </p><p>There couldn't be two women any more different. The one on the left was petite, with frizzy brown hair pinned back from her face, and she was wearing an oversized beige cardigan with loose three-quarter length jeans. The other was taller, more slender but still just as pretty. She had bright blonde hair tied in a messy bun on the top of her head and her make-up was flawless. But it was the bright tattoos over her bare arms and up her neck that drew my attention. They weren’t normal tattoos - there was something ancient and magical about the way they shimmered just under her skin. </p><p>The blonde chuckled, following my eyes to her tattoos before she smirked. </p><p>“You look like you’ve never seen a Healer before,” she laughed, and I cocked my head. My brows furrowed but the other woman, the petite one, seemed too excited for her own good. </p><p>“I’ve never met a Fae,” she said excitedly, clasping her hands together as her eyes crinkled under the wide-rimmed glasses resting on her nose. “Well I have, but I don’t have any Fae friends.”</p><p>“Suki, love, maybe not so loud,” said the blonde, glancing around the hall. I realised then that I hadn’t even spoken yet. </p><p>“Oh shit right, yeah come in,” I said shyly, stepping back from the door and leaving it open. I’d gotten into my kitchen when I saw that the two women were still standing at the door, even though the petite one looked like she was about to leap through the threshold. </p><p>I frowned. “Sorry, was I not supposed to invite you in?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. </p><p>Suki couldn't seem to stop herself, walking into the studio flat. Her curious eyes were already sweeping through the room, even if there wasn’t much to see. </p><p>“The rest of your stuff coming soon?” she asked, opening the empty drawers and looking under the bed. I felt like I should have been more alert, but this Suki girl had a kind of childish wonder about her. Like a puppy with no manners. </p><p>“Suki!” snapped the blonde as she rushed into the room, grabbing the other girl’s hand and yanking her away from my unopened case. “You can’t just go through people’s stuff!”</p><p>Suki frowned, face like a kicked puppy, and I couldn't stop a small laugh.</p><p>The blonde seemed to relax a little, her face smoothing out. </p><p>“Sorry. Suki… isn’t quite used to being around normal people yet.”</p><p>Suki turned her eyes to the blonde, a pout on her lips, and I could have sworn I saw her eyes flash. Like mirrors? I was suddenly reminded of the red-haired woman from the train station. It must have been a particular trait for certain Immortals.</p><p>I smiled brightly, glad that I wouldn’t be the only one sticking out as ‘not normal’. </p><p>“That’s fine,” I said, keeping my amused smile on the women. “I’m not really used to it either.”</p><p>Suki’s eyes brightened. “So you’re not from London, then?”</p><p>I smirked, moving to put my hands in my pockets. </p><p>“Is it that obvious?”</p><p>The women chuckled, and I was glad to see that the blonde was relaxing more and more. She seemed protective of Suki, like an older sister. But their didn’t share any features at all, so maybe good friends?</p><p>“Just a little,” said Suki, still smiling. She turned to look at the blonde, her eyes wide as saucers, and the blonde held her stare. Something silent passed between them before the blonde sighed, turning to me with an amused smirk.</p><p>“Fancy a cuppa? You look like you’re sorely lacking… everything.”</p><p>I turned my head to the kitchenette. Lacking would be an understatement. I gave the girls a relieved smile. </p><p>“Gods, yes please.”</p>
<hr/><p>Suki and Natalie lived in the studio above me. Their apartment had a lot more life than mine, even though it wasn’t any bigger. Their door opened in the middle of their living space, with the bedroom to the left separated by a sheer curtain. Their kitchen was to the right, and a small sofa and table in the middle. There was something bohemian, something chic about the decor. Lots of colourful throws and pillows, and random pictures and paintings on the wall. It was quite a sight - there was something everywhere, a kind of organised chaos. But it was cosy, and welcoming. </p><p>Natalie made tea while Suki sat me down, before she launched into a tirade of questions. I answered as much as I could, skirting around the truth of my origins. I told them that I was from a Gathering in Devon, and they took that as truth. </p><p>They assumed I was Elafae, which was fine by me. I steered the questions towards them, and hand on my heart I can honestly say I’ve never learned so much about two people in one two-hour sitting. </p><p>Suki was a Witch from a Coven in Covent Garden and had grown up surrounded by her kin. She had had little interactions with humans or even other Immortals, considering her Coven was the biggest in the country and they had their own school. She hadn’t wanted to stay there, however, and had decided to come into the main city to earn her own way. </p><p>Natalie was a Healer from Kent, where she grew up in an Academy with her peers. Unlike Suki, Natalie had met a whole array of Immortals, considering she was learning how to heal every kind. But she had tired of the competitive mindset, and refused to play the obnoxious games. She moved to London, in hopes of helping Immortals of all kinds. She had heard that London was a hub for all kinds of Immortals, and she wanted to experience the life. </p><p>What surprised me most, though, was the fact that Natalie and Suki were Bonded. They seemed far too young. Suki was only eleven years into her Immortality and Natalie just fifty (they both assured me that that was <em> very </em> young. I couldn't really compare, considering I was still Mortal myself. Not that I revealed that little tidbit, though.) </p><p>The looks they shared as they told me about their first meeting absolutely melted my heart. I knew that most Immortals had a Mate, or a Destined designed (apparently) by the Gods for each other. Two souls made exactly for each other, and once found, they stayed together for their whole lives. Suki and Natalie had found each other in a nightclub, of all places. </p><p>From the way Suki explained it, the moment that they saw each other - that was it. They just <em> knew </em>. I was a little dubious, because you can’t just love someone you see once. But Natalie told me that it’s not about love - it’s about finding the other half of your soul. Like everything you didn’t know you needed was wrapped up in one little bundle, and you just knew this person was made for you. It was quite sweet really, and despite the fact that I didn’t really believe it, the two of them made me want to. </p><p>They seemed excited for me and my job interview, asking if I had had one before and was I worried about working with humans. Despite not even really knowing me, they were already giving me advice and telling me I had a kind face. Suki worked for a pharmacy just down the road and Natalie worked as a GP in a small surgery a half hour away. They told me that they lived as cheap as they could, because they were saving up for their own surgery. Apparently there wasn’t an office specifically for Immortals around these parts, even though this was where most of them ended up when they first came to London. </p><p>Before I knew it, I had made two new friends. They were easy to talk to, and they had this calming energy about them which eased a tension I didn’t even know I had. It felt like I had known them most of my life by the time I got up to leave. </p><p>They promised to take me out tomorrow to show me around my new neighbourhood, and Suki wanted to help me find a cheap suit for my interview. They gave me a tupperware box filled with some leftover chicken casserole, and when I got back into my pathetic little flat I felt… lighter.  </p>
<hr/><p>“John Watson? Would you like to follow me?”</p><p>I gave the man a polite smile as I stood up from the hard plastic chair, looking over to the receptionist and giving her a small nod as she put both her thumbs up for me. She had been lovely when I’d signed in, and she genuinely seemed to want me to get the job. </p><p>I adjusted the tie are my neck for the hundredth time, battling the urge to loosen it. I felt a little ridiculous in the suit, even though Suki and Nat assured me it looked good. It was a tight-fitting black suit that hugged around my waist but opened over my chest. The shirt was plain white and I had a dark blue tie. The whole thing had cost me twenty quid, which I couldn't complain about considering I had absolutely no desire to wear it again. </p><p>I brushed my hands through my hair, wincing as I felt the sticky goo that Nat had insisted I used. The girls had been the one to get me ready, and I admit that I would have been pretty clueless without them. </p><p>“Just in here,” said the older man in front of me, opening up a door to a small but plush looking office. The windows were shaded behind a sleek wooden desk, and all kinds of shelves and cabinets lined the walls. I saw at least four framed degrees on the wall as I moved forward to take the seat in front of the desk, while the man sat down heavily on the other. </p><p>He looked to be in his late fifties, early sixties, with his dark hair peppered with silver. He was quite tall, taller than me, and seemed like he was in quite good shape for his age. His face was lined and features harsh, but the brown eyes behind his glasses were soft and kind. Which was good, because being in this human hospital made me nervous. The sharp tang of antisceptic was burning my nostrils, mingling with coffee and death. It was <em> very </em> different to the hospital in <em> Cathair </em>. We certainly didn’t need so many bleeping machines. </p><p>“Now, John.” </p><p>I snapped my eyes up to the man, desperately trying to remember his name. I folded my hands in my lap and my leg started a random rhythm as it tapped against the floor. He looked down at the piece of paper in front of him, before back up to me. I saw his eyes sweep over me before he offered me a kind smile. </p><p>“No need to be nervous, John,” he said with a small laugh. “I know who you are. Or, shall I say - <em> what </em> you are.”</p><p>My whole body froze and my eyes widened. The marking on my forearm seemed to pulse, a constant reminder that I needed to keep my mouth shut. The man - Dr Holden! - put the piece of paper aside and linked his hands on the table. </p><p>“I’ve known Gregoir for most of my life, which probably isn’t very long for him.” </p><p>I hesitantly returned the man’s smile. He did have a point. Gregoir was my mentor back in <em> Cathair Mor, </em>and the man was ancient. No one really knew how old he was, but it was obvious in his face that he had seen some shit in his life. </p><p>“If he’s trained you, I have no doubt of your skills. Sadly I can’t legally offer you any official position without a normal human degree, but if you’re serious about working here then we can see about some funding to get said degree. For now, though, you’ll be working in the morgue. I take it you have no qualms with autopsies?”</p><p>I blinked before I shook my head. I’d seen plenty of death in my thirty years. Not as many as some, but enough. I’d caused my share as well, but I shied away from that thought.</p><p>“Good. Miss Hooper needs an assistant, she’s been on her own since the summer. And I haven’t been able to find another Immortal who will work on an apprentice salary. Most of them are far too over-qualified. I’ll have your contract sent over to you by email, and you can bring it in with you when you start on Monday. I take it that’s not a problem?”</p><p>I blinked, my mind struggling to keep up. From what Nat had told me, there would be questions and tests and bragging. This seemed too easy. </p><p>“What’s the catch?” I asked before I could stop myself, and Dr Holden’s brown eyes turned to me, regarding me with quiet amusement. </p><p>“Aside from me gaining an Elvanae?” he chuckled, but his body straightened and he turned serious. “There’s not a catch per say, although there will be an element of your job that isn’t technically part of the description.”</p><p>I took a bated breath, wondering what I was getting myself into.</p><p>“You see, all of my staff here are humans. They are blissfully unaware of the Underside of the world and I would prefer to keep it that way. However, on occasion, an Immortal body comes through our doors. You will identify them as soon as you can, before anyone looks too closely. Then you will contact me, and I will have the body removed and sent to our sister hospital where they’re more equipped to deal with them.”</p><p>I stared blankly for a few moments, waiting for the bad part to come. But Dr Holden just smiled again, opening his palms in a submissive gesture. </p><p>“That’s it. You’ll also have to gather any samples that are taken without your knowledge. Really, you must protect the staff here from ever finding out about the Underside. Especially Miss Hooper. She will be your superior, but she is of a… delicate nature. I don’t think she’ll take that discovery very well, and I would rather spare her. But other than that, you’ll be her assistant. Full training will be provided, and as soon as you accept your contract and complete your three month trial, you will officially be working here. How does that sound, John?”</p><p>I let out a surprised laugh, shaking my head before I leaned forward, taking the offered hands. </p><p>“Sounds pretty brilliant, actually.”</p><p>Dr Holden mirrored my smile, before bowing his head a little. “Good. I look forward to working with you, Mr Watson.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Elvenae (Dryadalis) </p><p>The Elvenae, or Elvae, are incredibly reclusive and private Immortals. They rarely involve themselves in the politics of Man or Immortal. Only few have found the Elvanae homeland, such shadowed in magic is their city. They are said to be very beautiful and lithe, as well as masterful magic users, especially healing magics. It is rumoured that they created the First Immortal and thus began the evolution of the Six Species. Little is known about them, except that they live in Tribes of thousands and will protect their kind over everything else. They are also constantly hunted by other Immortals seeking power, as Elvanae are rumoured to be able to bring back the dead. This has sent them into further hiding, as any captured are used as medics and slaves.</p><p> </p><p>Elafae (Eyferallis)</p><p>Perhaps the most common of the Fae, the Elafae are a magic-less race that have lived amongst Humans since the dawn of time. Their features are soft and bodies lithe, but their beauty has lead to many a Human-Fae crossbreed. Because of this, not many Pureblooded Elafae remain, and over time they have lost the pointed ears symbolic to their race. Those of Pureblood live away from the Human cities, along the countryside. A lot of Elafae are drawn to each other and often live together in Groups or Gatherings.</p><p> </p><p>Healers (Magamedicus)</p><p>Rulers of Immortal Medicine, Healers are trained by their Elders in healing magics for every race. Some are born with the Gift, and others are taught it. Very rarely, some young Healers show an Affinity for a particular species of Immortal, and thus once they are trained, they eventually become an Elder Healer. They live in an Academy where they are raised and trained to be Healers. They are neutral in any wars or fighting, and once they have left the Academy, they live in Infirmaries.</p><p> </p><p>Witches (Maleficarum)</p><p>Unlike Sorcerers or Magi, Witches’ magic stems from the learned skill of alchemy. They are master potion-makers and are often sought out for their remedies or bottled curses. They are more reclusive however, and live in small Covens. Again, they are very human-like in appearance asides from the reflectiveness in their eyes. Many associate a Witch’s eyes with that of Mirrors.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Just John</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>Excerpt from ‘The Book of Immortality’ by No One</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>Chapter Seven - The Magicas</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Magicas are Immortals that are primarily human in appearance, but control immense power. This ranges from spells to scrolls, to elements and natural-born abilities. Not all Magicas agree with each other, and many born within the same class of Magica disagree. During the Thousand Year War <strong>(see page 170 for more on The Thousand Year War) </strong>many Magicas fought against each other for their beliefs. It is a common misconception that all Magicas are mercenaries, or will only trade their services for pay.</em>
</p><hr/><p>It was surprising, really, just how quickly you can get into a routine. How quickly you can get used to it. How something once so overwhelming suddenly becomes normal, and you’re living your day-to-day life as if you’ve always been doing it. </p><p>London was so big, so busy, so full of life that I thought I would be swallowed by it. Gobbled up and spat out, like an outcast. But London… well, it was amazing. It never slept. There was always somewhere to go, something new to see. There were always interesting people, some nice and some not. I was falling in love with it. Despite the size of <em> Cathair Mor </em> , it never felt quite as… <em> alive</em>. </p><p>Working in the morgue at St Bart’s was actually quite fun. It was interesting learning about the human’s technology, even if it was very outdated compared to what I was used to. But the humans were so proud of it, and my eyes nearly popped from my head when Molly told me how much some of it cost. </p><p>She was quite sweet, my boss. A little all over the place, but nice enough. For the first few weeks she never directly asked me to do anything, instead bouncing shyly on her feet until I noticed. She seemed to be getting some confidence with me now, which meant more instruction and more for me to do. Thankfully, she was a chatterbox, and once I asked her something, she would talk about it for hours. This kept the topic away from my background, which suited me just fine. </p><p>Although lately, the conversation kept turning towards dating. At first I thought that she was hinting at going out with me, but it turned out that Molly just wanted an excuse to gush about some guy she liked. </p><p>In all honesty, I tuned her out after a while, but she seemed totally smitten by the man and I encouraged her to ask him out. She got all shy then, but said she would think about it. </p><p>Before I knew it, nearly two months had passed since I moved to London. My little flat was feeling a bit more like home now (thanks to the many, <em> many </em> shopping trips with Nat and Suki) and I was quite enjoying being here. I think some of my homesickness was born from fear of the unknown. But nobody was afraid of me here, no one even noticed me nevermind whispered behind my back. I was just an average Joe, and it was quite liberating. </p><p>I had just made myself a cup of tea and was going to watch something on my new laptop. I didn’t really want to buy one at full price, but St Barts paid surprisingly well and Suki knew a tech exchange shop where they sold second-hand gadgets for half the price. So far, the laptop was working well enough and I was starting to get addicted to Netflix if I’m honest. </p><p>Already three seasons into iZombie, I was just loading up the next episode when my door burst open. It didn’t even make me jump anymore, but I gave Suki a half-hearted glare as she swept into my room. </p><p>“You know, you’ll burst in one time when I’m doing something inappropriate,” I said casually, sipping my tea as she plopped down at the foot of my bed. </p><p>Suki laughed, tucking her legs up and leaning herself against the wall. </p><p>“No I wouldn’t. I’d be able to tell.”</p><p>I snorted, moving my legs across so she had a bit more space. </p><p>“I don’t wanna know how. Anyway, what’s up?”</p><p>I should have guessed she was up to something the moment she set her big eyes on me, and a wolfish grin spreading across her face. </p><p>“We’re going out.”</p><p>I nodded, my attention already on my laptop screen. </p><p>“Anywhere nice? Thought date nights were on Thursdays?”</p><p>Suki laughed before the laptop was slammed closed and she was leaning over me. I opened my mouth, aware that Nat wouldn’t be best pleased if she came in and saw Suki practically lying on me. </p><p>“No, idiot,” she said, before she bounced on the bed and used the momentum to get to her feet. “<em> We </em> are going out.”</p><p>My eyes widened in surprise, but the little witch was already opening my drawers and searching through my clothes. </p><p>“Hey!” I protested, putting my laptop aside and reaching across the bed to yank a pair of boxers from her hands. She blew a breath through her lips, already digging around in the next drawer. </p><p>“I’m not really feeling it tonight,” I started, getting to my feet and moving behind her, only to duck as she started launching my clothes through the air.</p><p>“Suki!” I snapped, but she wasn’t listening to me. </p><p>“Aha!”</p><p>The witch turned triumphantly, holding up the white shirt I’d worn to my interview. I grimaced. The thing was so bloody tight that I felt a fool in it. </p><p>“I’m not going out!” I tried, but she was already searching through my trousers. “I’ve worked like forty hours this week and I’m knackered. I’m old, don’t you know.”</p><p>That got a little chuckle from her, but she still chucked a pair of dark slacks at me. My shoulders slumped and I realised that I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. These girls would be the death of me, I could tell. </p><p>“We’re leaving in an hour,” she said, turning to me with a wide, cheeky grin. She leaned up to place a quick peck on my cheek as a way of apology before she was gone. All I could do was look around at the carnage of my room and realise it would take me most of that time to put my clothes away. </p><p>“Bloody witch,” I muttered.</p><hr/><p>If I had felt out of place in my suit, then it didn’t hold a candle to standing next to the girls. They looked so good that I could barely meet their eyes. </p><p>Nat was wearing a short gold dress made entirely of gems which cast rainbows around us every time she caught the light. Her blonde hair was flowing over her shoulders in messy curls and she wore big gold earrings. Her cheeks shimmered as well, making her look like some kind of goddess.</p><p>Suki wasn’t as bright, but she was just as beautiful. She was wearing a black dress, this one was fitted around the waist and the skirts poofed out to her knees. She had a pair of boots as opposed to Nat’s high heels, and her curly hair was up in a high bun with a few ringlets falling out here and there. Her make-up was dark, making her already big eyes pop, and she looked effortlessly pretty. </p><p>Together they were so different, and yet they fit together so perfectly. I walked slowly behind them, watching the way they laughed and how their hands linked together. They were really starting to make me believe in this Destined thing. They seemed so happy, so completely at ease with one another. Even as they were cat-called by strangers, they just laughed it off. Although I could tell that they wouldn’t take any shit. I felt so small in comparison, even though they’d assured me I looked good. </p><p>As if summoning them, the two magicas turned and smiled at me. Nat reached back and yanked me forward, before the two of them linked each of my arms. I smirked, winking at a small group of guys by a shop corner as they called me a lucky son of a bitch. </p><p>Nat cackled and Suki waved, before we continued down the street. They’d brought me to Soho, which was already booming with life. So many bars and clubs and people walking around. Lots of gay bars as well, which made me question what Nat and Suki had presumed about me. </p><p>I’d never been with a guy, but then again, I hadn’t exactly had the pick of women either. Most people tended to stay away from me when I was growing up, so saying I was inexperienced was laughable. </p><p>We turned down an alley to join the end of a queue that was leading to a club called <em> Underworld. </em> I could guess from the different scents around me that this was an Immortal club. I hadn’t imagined that there was a club just for our kind, but it made sense when I thought about it. </p><p>“This is where we met,” said Suki with a smile, and I looked over the doorway again. I’d imagined it would have been something… grander? This place looked pretty ordinary.</p><p>“Maybe you’ll find your Destined here, too,” added Nat with a wink. </p><p>The penny dropped. </p><p>“Did you bring me out to set me up? Is that why I look like I’m in a fucking boyband?”</p><p>The two of them cackled, before Suki squeezed my arm and Nat patted my cheek. </p><p>“Don’t be silly,” she said, although she was still smiling. “You look amazing.”</p><p>Suki nodded, before she turned to the two men standing in front of us. They were talking to themselves, but Suki reached out to tap one of their shoulders without any hesitation. One of them turned and I bit the inside of my lip. </p><p>“‘Scuse me, sorry, but can you just tell my friend here that he looks damn sexy?” </p><p>I shot the petite witch a look, but the guy just laughed. I glanced up to take him in and that’s when I noticed the fangs poking out from between his lips. Not big, or menacing, but it explained why his eyes looked like they were glowing. </p><p>“You look gorgeous, babe,” he said with a grin, before he leaned over. I was frozen, but I did straighten my spine as his hands ruffled my hair. He pulled it out so that a few strands hung over my eyes, and the two strangers looked at each other knowingly. </p><p>“Better,” said Fangs, and his friend was sweeping his startlingly bright blue eyes up and down me. They only stood out more against his dark caramel skin. </p><p>“I’d give him a taste,” said Blue Eyes, and I shifted myself a little. The two of them laughed, which the girls joined in with, and I felt heat colouring my cheeks. I cast my eyes down, internally asking myself why I let them bully me out. I could be at home, watching Netflix and eating my Indian leftovers. Not standing in the frigid autumn night and being judged by strangers. </p><p>“We’re only playing,” said Suki, and I felt her arm wrap around my waist. Nat put her arm over my shoulders and pulled me forward, kissing my head. </p><p>“Come on, cheer up. You’ll feel better once we’ve got some drinks in you.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes, but I let them comfort me. Not because I was attracted to them (crazy, I know) but because I was kind of getting used to their casual touching. Like their hugs, or their sweet kisses. They were affectionate, and I… well. I hadn’t had much of that in my life. </p><p>We ended up chatting to the two guys in front of us, and I was right to assume that they were Vampyres. Bonded Vampyres, which made me feel a bit better. Although I did balk a bit when Blue Eyes told us he was three hundred and four. Fangs was a bit younger, but only by a century. They seemed like nice guys, and the five of us ended up going into the club together. </p><p>It was weird, but I felt a little like they were protecting me. As though me being by myself warranted more care and caution. They didn’t particularly do anything protective, but I felt… safer with them? It was hard to explain, but the red-haired woman’s words came back to me. </p><p>
  <em> ...lads’ like you are a breath of fresh air. You’ll find people to take care of ya. </em>
</p><p>Some kind of Immortal instinct, maybe? Protect the singletons?</p><p>I shook away the thoughts as the five of us walked through the club. It was bigger than I first thought, with two floors. The bottom opened up to a massive dancefloor which didn’t have many people in it yet, and a bar lined each side of it. At the end was a DJ booth but it was empty. </p><p>We took the stairs to our immediate left. The next floor was more of a balcony, with a view of the dancefloor below. There were loads of tables against the bannister leading all the way around. The walls were lined with booths, which all looked taken at the moment. The bar up here was smaller, but it was absolutely rammed. </p><p>“I’ll get the first round in!” said Fangs, taking our orders before brushing his fingers through Blue Eyes’ hair. They shared a toothy smile before Blue Eyes turned back to us. </p><p>“So how long have you been together?” asked Suki and Blue Eyes smiled. <em> I should probably stop calling him Blue Eyes.  </em></p><p>“Seventy years or so,” said Damien with a bright smile, and I saw the way the girls’ eyes softened in understanding. I felt a little out of place with them, but Damien seemed to notice and he gave me a cheery smile. </p><p>“I must admit, I was quite surprised to see you’re a Fae,” he said to me, and I smiled in understanding. </p><p>“Yeah most people are,” I agreed. “You don’t see many short and stout Fae.”</p><p>Damien clucked his tongue. “That isn’t what I meant. Well - it is, but not like that. I mean, Fae are usually small and slender but you… you’re <em> ripped </em>.”</p><p>He gestured to my arms, which were barely contained with the stupid shirt. I looked down, shifting from foot to foot. I wasn’t used to compliments, and the way that Damien had said it… it sure <em> sounded </em> like a compliment. </p><p>Nat nudged me with her hip and I rolled my eyes. </p><p>“It’s all that country air, eh?” she teased, and I shrugged, putting my hands into my pockets. </p><p>“All right, down girl,” I said playfully and the Healer let out a surprised laugh. I could feel my shoulders start to relax, although I wasn’t quite sure what to make about the tray of shots that Nikolas put in front of us. I clinked mine to the others’, realising that I might have made a terrible, terrible mistake. </p><hr/><p>The base seemed to resound in my skull, vibrating down muscles and tendons and bone until it melted into the floor. My body moved of its own accord, my arms high in the air. Everything felt light and distant, and yet strangely clear. </p><p>My eyes closed and opened again languidly, even though the music was fast and heavy. Suki and Nat were somewhere in the mass of bodies, but I knew they would be okay. </p><p>In fact, everything felt okay. The world, my life, my past. I wasn’t tired, nor was I stressed. I was drifting on a cloud and dancing as though nothing could touch me. </p><p>Drunk. Definitely drunk. </p><p>But free, and happy. I laughed as I felt an arm around my waist, and I turned to see Damien and Nikolas surrounding me. They shook their hips in time with mine, and I laughed stupidly as Damien started to bust out some serious moves. I cheered as Nik whooped. </p><p>Damien gave us a sweeping bow just as the song drew off to its close. I took a deep breath, feeling flustered surrounded by so many bodies. My throat was dry, but the next song was slower and both Bonded couples were draped over each other. I smiled and shook my head, deciding to leave them to it. </p><p>I’d seen plenty of single people, but I also noticed that as soon as I caught someone’s eye, they would notice Nat and Suki, or the Vampyres, and then they would turn their attention somewhere else. </p><p>Were Bonded couples an Immortal repellent? </p><p>I made my way to the small outside space, hoping to get some air, but instead walking into a wall of smoke. I winced and waved it away, moving towards the back where I could hopefully get some clean air. </p><p>Just because Immortals couldn't die of cancer didn’t mean they should recklessly damage their lungs. I cleared my throat as I leaned myself against the wall, brushing my hair from my face. It had gotten long in the few months I’d been here, and it was starting to piss me off. Nevermind the fact that I was sweaty and it was sticking to my face. I combed it back with my fingers before grabbing my shirt and fanning some air against my body. </p><p>“Dangerous for a handsome snack like you to be here on your own, hm?”</p><p>I turned my head to see a lovely woman in front of me. She had a cigarette in her hand and her crimson lips were pulled back in a teasing grin. I could see the point of her teeth and chuckled, getting why she’d called me a snack. </p><p>“I’m not worried,” I said cockily, shrugging my shoulders. </p><p>“Oh no?” she purred, stepping towards me. Her scent filled my nostrils, and I had to admit it was incredibly pleasant. Bold and sweet, like lavender and vodka. “Sure about that?”</p><p>She was now a few inches away from me, and my eyes flickered over her lovely face. Soft, curved features with full lips and dark eyes. Pale, unblemished. A supermodel, really. But she was a natural predator, so of course she was beautiful. Her eyes had an edge of danger about them, and I just knew by looking at her that I would easily be enthralled by her. She would be the kind of woman that would show you depths of hell, but bring you the light of heaven. </p><p>“Drink?” I asked, raising an eyebrow and letting a small smirk play on my lips. She smiled, and it lit up her features. My heart jumped into my throat, and her eyes darted to my chest as though she’d heard it. She probably had. It only made the electricity in her eyes brighten, and I knew that right now, I was the prey. </p><p>“A ruby mix,” she said, her smile all sharp teeth. I let out a breathy chuckle before her hand moved from my chest and I made my way back inside. </p><p>The atmosphere had definitely changed. It was thicker now, heavier, with the dancefloor rammed and people grinding against each other. I smiled, feeling the drink swishing through my veins. I was definitely still in control, but my reservations were gone. And I wasn’t too sure, but it felt like more people were looking at me now. Like a fresh piece of meat just went to market. I lowered my head a little, not liking the feeling of being a target, and made a beeline for the bar. </p><p>It was packed. People talked and shouted at each other, with a mingling of growls and high trills. Overwhelming, to say the least, but it all faded into the steady rhythm of the music pulsing throughout the club. </p><p>I waited patiently for about ten minutes until there was a break in the people by the counter. I slid into it and tried to catch the eye of the bartender. He was busy entertaining a group of young women at the far end though, and another ten minutes passed. It seemed like everyone was being served except me. I leaned forward, waving my hand, but I only got a sneer from the bartender. I obviously wasn’t pretty enough to be served. </p><p>I sighed, frustrated, before turning to look towards the back area. </p><p>And there was my lovely Vampyre lady, tongue-twisted with another young lad. I narrowed my eyes slightly, but what could I do? I’d lost my chance. </p><p>Feeling deflated, I pushed away from the bar and walked around the outskirts of the dancefloor and towards the stairs. Heading up to the second floor was relieving, because it was significantly less busy. People were getting up to some unholy things in the booths, but I quickly looked away. To each their own, I guess?</p><p>The bar up here only had a couple of people around it and I smiled, glad to finally get myself a drink. I leaned against the counter, and the lady behind the bar gave me a polite smile and a wave, gesturing that she would be right there. Much friendlier. </p><p>I sat myself on a stool, tapping my fingers in time with the music and looking around. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, I just enjoyed the energy here. So many people without a care in the world, enjoying themselves and each other. It was so much different than the pubs in <em> Cathair Mor. </em> But it wasn’t as if I went there often, so I guess it could have been similar. </p><p>I glanced down the end of the bar and noticed a lone figure sitting there. </p><p>I cocked my head. He wasn’t very far away from me, sitting at the edge of the curve on the counter. His head was down, focused on the phone in his hands. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and all I could really see was a mass of dark curls. </p><p>There was a small glimpse of a long, elegant nose but it was hard to tell with the strobe lights casting shadows all over the place. The light on the screen flickered, clearing working as quickly as the fingers commanded. </p><p>Feeling curious and just a little bit drink-confidant, I leaned myself across slightly. </p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>The fingers stopped, thumbs hovering over the screen. The man didn’t move, but a pair of strikingly bright eyes flickered upwards. The breath caught in my throat as those eyes jumped back and forth. They watched me from under thick lashes, but only for a second. They soon returned back to the screen and the thumbs resumed their aggressive typing. </p><p>I blew out a hard breath between my lips. </p><p>“Can I buy you a drink?” I tried again, internally berating myself for asking that. Why - why would I do that? The man was clearly not interested, and yet it was hard to know what that brief little look meant. </p><p>The fingers stopped again, and I realised I was holding my breath. </p><p>This time the man raised his head, and I got the full vision of his face. And good gods, that nose hadn’t prepared me for the full face. The man had high, sharp cheekbones with a slender jaw. Those eyes were haloed with dark lashes, drawing out the ivory of his skin. His lips were thin, but well-defined, and the man looked like he was some kind of statue. Like he was chiselled from expensive marble. I noticed that he was wearing a coat as well, a long-tailed black coat with a high collar. </p><p>His face was unreadable, but his eyes were flicking back and forth and I suddenly felt like I was under a microscope. I cleared my throat and sat a little straighter, feeling more than a little exposed. </p><p>“No.”</p><p>The voice was so sudden, and so <em> deep </em> that it washed over me like crushed velvet. My eyes widened and I turned my head, but the man was already looking at his phone again. I released another hard breath through my nose. Well. Wasn’t expecting <em> that </em>. </p><p>The bartender finally got to me and I was relieved of the distraction. I pointedly did not look at the stranger again, because he obviously didn’t want to be bothered. </p><p>I ordered myself a jägerbomb for my frazzled nerves and then a Jack and coke. The bartender gave me a genuine smile as she served me my drinks. I paid her and downed the jägerbomb, to which I spilled some down my chin. The bartender laughed at me as she handed me my change, and I saw something kind in her eyes. She was pretty, but not exceptionally so. </p><p>She had mousy brown hair in a high ponytail and wore a black shirt and jeans. She wasn’t caked in make-up either, just a bit of blusher and some black wings over her top eyelids. </p><p>She smiled at me again before she moved to serve the two men who had appeared at the other end. I looked at my drink and chuckled to myself, before taking a tentative sip of my Jack and coke. </p><p>“You’re not gay, then.”</p><p>I spluttered on my drink and turned my head, noticing that the stranger at the end of the bar was watching me again. </p><p>“Sorry, what?”</p><p>“Well you’re clearly attracted to the bartender so you’re not gay.”</p><p>I frowned, opening my mouth and closing it again before turning my body to face the man. His voice was so deep that it still threw me a little, but I was both confused with his declaration and curious as to his point. </p><p>“Well no,” I said dumbly, narrowing my eyes a little. The man’s expression hadn’t changed, although his phone was away now and I seemed to have his momentary attention. </p><p>“So why did you offer me a drink?” he asked, and I blinked in surprise. </p><p>“Err… I was being nice?” I said slowly, because I didn’t actually really know why I had. There was just something about someone sitting on their own that made me feel bad. But also because I had been curious to see his face. With both accomplished, I should walk away. And yet… the corner of the man’s bowed lips tugged upwards in a flash of a smirk, which just confused me even more. </p><p>“Were you now.” It wasn’t a question. </p><p>I pursed my lips, feeling a little awkward, so I picked up my drink and sipped it. Part of me wanted to stay here, to maybe try and chat up the pretty bartender, but I didn’t like being under the man’s scrutiny. There was silence for a few moments while I debated whether to stay or leave. Then that voice cut through the din of the nightclub again, tolling like a bell.</p><p>“You don’t look like a Fae.” </p><p>I turned my head, my arms resting on the counter and let out a small laugh from between my lips. </p><p>“Yeah I’ve heard, but…” I reached up and brushed my hair behind my ear, revealing the very slight point at the end. The ears were the only giveaway that I was Fae, that was true. </p><p>The man’s eyes were still flickering, as though he was scanning me. It was bizarre, but beautiful at the same time. I shrugged and ruffled my hair, letting it fall back over my ears. I preferred my hair shorter, but the point was quite noticeable and I wanted to fit in with the humans. Not like I could wear braids over the tip like some of the female Fae could. </p><p>“Why did you offer me a drink if you weren’t trying to pick me up?” asked the man as he shifted himself, seemingly getting comfortable. Somehow I had got his attention and I didn’t quite know what to do with it yet. I shrugged, taking another long pull of my drink. </p><p>“You looked lonely.”</p><p>Surprisingly, the man let out a short laugh before he closed his mouth and glanced down. When he looked up again, I could see amusement swimming in those startling eyes. </p><p>“Do you usually pick up strays?” he asked, his lips quirking upwards again. I had to admit, it was good on his face. A little half-smirk. It helped me relax my shoulders a bit and I chuckled in response, my fingers twirling the glass in my palm. </p><p>“Not usually,” I admitted, glancing side-ways at the man. “Guess I was curious.”</p><p>One perfectly arched eyebrow raised on his face, and he seemed to be regarding me with new interest. For some reason, my heart fluttered and palpitated even though the expression on the stranger’s face hadn’t changed. </p><p>The man seemed to unwrap his limbs from around his body, and his coat fell open to reveal a deep plum coloured shirt underneath. I didn’t let my eyes linger, instead watching as he offered a hand to me. </p><p>“Sherlock Holmes.”</p><p>I smiled politely and took his hand. A shock of cold made me jump a little, but I managed to school my features before I squeezed and shook with a confidence I didn’t necessarily feel. </p><p>“John,” I said in response, pulling my hand away and yet still feeling the lingering cold of the other’s skin. It was like his hand had been made of ice. </p><p>“Just John?” asked this Sherlock, and I smiled as I inclined my head. </p><p>“Just John.”</p><p>“Very ordinary name,” he remarked and I let out a huff of amusement as I finished my drink. Sherlock’s eyes seemed to follow my movements, and I tried not to shift under his gaze. </p><p>“Very ordinary man,” I quipped, and there was that half-smirk again. </p><p>“Oh I doubt that.”</p><p>His voice seemed to drop an octave, bordering on a purr and I gripped my glass to suppress a shudder. <em> Je-sus-Christ </em>. </p><p>I clucked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, facing the man with a matching smirk. I had no idea what was happening, but I felt oddly confident and alright, a little proud to have captivated this man’s eyes. I had no idea <em> why </em>, but hey. No harm, right?</p><p>“So why are you here on your own then, Sherlock Holmes?” I asked, steering the conversation away from me. It was a natural instinct at this point, and I looked at the man patiently. There was something in the way his eyes narrowed a little that set me on edge, but I pushed it away as Sherlock turned his head and gestured across the seating area. </p><p>There was a group of young women standing together. They were laughing and giggling to one another, and even I was surprised at their lack of… anything. Only a few choice pieces of material kept them from being completely naked. </p><p>I turned back to Sherlock, raising an eyebrow. Was… he a pimp or something?</p><p>Sherlock scoffed at me and rolled his eyes, before he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small leather holder. He opened it up enough for me to see the shiny gold police badge with the bold words DETECTIVE etched underneath, and everything clicked into place. My mouth made a silent ‘O’ and I looked at the girls again.</p><p>“What did they do? Kill someone?” I asked, half-teasing but curious despite myself. Sherlock returned back to his previous position before his eyes flickered back to my empty glass.</p><p>“No, but the one with the pink headband knew the victim. She won’t talk to me.”</p><p>I hummed in the back of my throat, looking the woman over before turning back to Sherlock. He was watching me, almost expectantly, and I cocked my head curiously. He cleared his throat and looked down at my glass again. A smile spread across my face and I chuckled to myself. </p><p>“You seem thirsty,” I said casually, waving at the bartender. There was a small sigh from the other and I saw Sherlock leaning forward on the bar. He inclined his head and I nodded slowly, smiling as the bartender stopped in front of me. </p><p>“Another Jack and coke please,” I said, handing her a ten pound note. She smiled brightly and poured me my drink, setting it down with a lingering glance. But I just focused on taking a sip of my drink. I heard a surprised scoff to my right and I chanced a glance at Sherlock. His eyes were wide and he seemed genuinely surprised. I raised an eyebrow. </p><p>“What?” I asked innocently, although I couldn't stop smiling.</p><p>“Is your earlier offer off the table?” he asked, his features curving sharply around his half-smirk. I shrugged my shoulders, speaking over the rim of my glass. </p><p>“You turned down my offer,” I reminded him, and Sherlock huffed out a small laugh. </p><p>“I suppose I did. Are you playing hard to get, John?”</p><p>I swallowed thickly at that incredible voice saying my name. There was something utterly sinful about it, and I briefly wondered what the hell was wrong with me. I licked my lower lip as I set the glass down. </p><p>“No,” I said, although there was a definite heat crawling up my neck and settling on my cheeks. “Why? Are you trying to ‘get’ me?”</p><p>Nothing in Sherlock’s features gave away his thoughts, and I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling ridiculous. </p><p>“Flirting?” asked Sherlock, and I wasn’t sure whether he was pointing it out to embarrass me or to check that I actually was. I laughed nervously, shaking my head. I had no idea, really, although I did feel a little too warm in my own skin. </p><p>“You’re the detective, aren’t you?” </p><p>Sherlock hummed and I could almost feel the vibrations of it from where I stood. I let out a long breath, glancing around again. A few of the girls had left the group, leaving Pink Headband and another dark haired girl sitting at a table. </p><p>“What was the victim’s name?” I asked suddenly, turning back to Sherlock. He frowned, following my line of sight before those eyes flickered over my face as though searching for something. </p><p>“Ryan Graceland…” he said slowly, curiously, and I flashed him a cocky smile.</p><p>“And her?” I nodded at the woman, and I could see something akin to understanding dawning on Sherlock’s face. He gave me a doubtful smile, but seemed interested nonetheless. </p><p>“Scarlett Dean.”</p><p>I smirked and nodded my head, finishing my drink in a few quick gulps. I didn’t look at Sherlock as I took a steadying breath and started towards the two girls. </p><p>“Oh my gods, Scarlett!” I said with a wide grin, and the girls looked up at me curiously. “I haven’t seen you in years, since that party with Ryan!” She frowned a little before she smiled, her eyes glassy with alcohol. </p><p>“Oh yeah, yeah, how are you?” she asked, standing up and pulling me into a hug. I joined the two of them, talking quickly. They were absolutely smashed, and answered me without hesitation. I mentioned the untimely death of Ryan, and Scarlett’s face dropped. Her eyes went all watery and I felt a stab of guilt about lying to her, but she seemed to need to talk about it. </p><p>I don’t know how long I sat there with them, talking to them like they were old friends. It wasn’t hard to do, because they just kept drinking. I accepted a glass of champagne, laughing along as they reminisced about things I knew nothing about. </p><p>It was probably about half an hour before the other girls came back, and I was introduced to them as Ryan’s friend. I played on Scarlett’s embarrassment that she couldn't remember my name. One of the girls was looking at me dubiously though, and I knew she wasn’t as drunk as the others. I didn’t protest when they decided to go to the dancefloor, and I promised to join them once I’d gotten myself a drink. </p><p>Okay, so <em> maybe </em> I was showing off a little. But I was still suitibley buzzed, even though playing detective had me a little more sober than I would have liked by the time I got back to the bar. </p><p>I felt a little shy as I took my seat again, noticing the way Sherlock seemed to be watching my every move. There was a fresh Jack and coke on the counter and I gave Sherlock a side-glance, noticing the glass of dark liquid he was holding with slender fingers. </p><p>“Scarlett’s a nice girl,” I said casually, taking a sip of my free drink. It always tasted better when it was free and I smacked my lips in appreciation. “Her sister’s pregnant and her mum’s just got a new cat. Oh and Jenny is getting married but they haven’t set a date yet.”</p><p>I turned to see Sherlock sporting a rather unimpressed look and I snickered, shaking my head and sipping my drink again. </p><p>“She broke up with Ryan last week and she hasn’t seen him since. She said he texted her a few times but she never answered because apparently he was cheating on her with someone called Sam?” </p><p>Sherlock blinked, pulling out his phone and tapping at it furiously until he smiled down at the screen. </p><p>“Of course,” he mumbled, putting his phone away and bracing himself as if he was about to get up, but he stopped as he looked at me. He sank back down into the stool, watching me with an intensity I didn’t understand. He didn’t speak, just kept looking me over with those eyes and I felt my cheeks flushing. My earlier bravado was being melted under that look and this time I did shudder. </p><p>“John,” he said, and my lips parted as I focused on the drink on the counter. “Would you-”</p><p>“John!”</p><p>We both turned to look behind us, and I didn’t know whether I was relieved or annoyed to see Nat and Suki bounding towards me. </p><p>Sherlock did get up this time and I bit the inside of my lip. Definitely annoyed. He pulled a scarf around his neck, ignoring his drink and straightening his coat. Seeing him at his full height, I suddenly felt tiny. Jesus. Voice like quicksilver and legs that went on for days. Who the hell was this man?</p><p>“Perhaps next time I’ll accept your offer,” said Sherlock near my ear. I felt something catch in my throat as I realised just how close he was standing to me. I opened my mouth but the words died on my tongue as a deep, fucking <em> sinful </em> chuckle resounded over my skin. </p><p>Then he was gone, and I was left trying not to hyperventilate. </p><p>“Who was that?” asked Nat, her head following the retreating figure. I followed her line of sight, feeling all hot and cold at once. I blinked, shrugging my shoulders. </p><p>“I have... no idea.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Vampyres (Noctidaemis)</p><p>Contradictory to popular belief, Vampyres are not the feral killers that myth would have us believe. They are almost exactly like humans, with similar anatomy and appearance. They are born rather than infected, and are able to adapt to human civilization. They do have increased speed and strength, and once they reach their Immortality, are able to teleport (commonly referred to as Port/Porting). Their teeth are more defined as they are natural hunters, and they have small glands at the back of their gums which ejects a nerve relaxant to still and calm their prey. They are sensitive to light as they are primarily nocturnal, but are able to adapt with enough exposure. They do feed on blood, but are not limited to only humans. They live in Clans.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. It's Not Cute</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Excert from <em>The Book of Immortality</em> by No One</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Chapter Eleven - Integration</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Many Immortals have integrated themselves into what is considered 'Human Society'. They live amongst mortals in a bid to conceal themselves. A lot of Immortals have influenced human culture and history, which has lead to hostility between many factions. Older Immortals, those born before the Human race was dominant in the world believe that integration is blasphemous and against Immortal nature. However, younger Immortals believe that both supernatural and human beings are able to live in harmony. This has caused dissent and unrest for millenia. The argument between the two is still going on to this day.</em>
</p><hr/><p>The shrill, tinny sound seemed to pierce through my head, shredding my brain cells and leaving me writhing on the bed, groaning into the pillow. I ignored it as best as I could, until it stopped and I was able to burrow further into my blankets. I had just settled back down again, trying my damndest to ignore the steady pounding in my head and the dry throb in my throat. </p><p>Then the shrieking started again and I huffed a sigh, blearily peeking out through my quilt fort and staring daggers at the flashing phone on the nightstand beside me. The sound seemed to spark a harder tempo behind my eyes, and it started to become unbearable. With a defeated groan, I reached out and picked it up, sliding the green button at the bottom without really looking at the screen. </p><p>“...m’ello?”</p><p>“John! I’ve been ringing you for ages!”</p><p>I winced. Her voice was too high, too happy and awake for my sluggish brain to deal with. I grimaced, licking my lips and trying to swallow. </p><p>“Molly,” I rasped, clearing my throat and blinking my watery eyes against the morning light. “What’s up?”</p><p>“Are you alright? You sound sick.”</p><p>I groaned, ducking under the quilt. </p><p>“I’m hungover,” I mumbled. Molly let out a small laugh before she went eerily quiet. </p><p>“Oh dear, you’re not going to like me then but… I need you to come in.”</p><p>My answering scoff and then pathetic mewling made her laugh again. </p><p>“No, don’t make me,” I whined. “You said I could have this weekend off… I’m <em> dying </em>.”</p><p>“Aww I’m sorry John, but you’ll have to put on your big boy pants. I’ve got a truck-full of bodies coming in and there’ll be more.”</p><p>I huffed. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” I grumbled, and Molly giggled. Then her words started to sink in, and I somehow managed to pull myself up into a sitting position, wincing as my head threatened to explode. </p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>Molly sighed sadly. “Massive car pile up.”</p><p>I clucked my tongue, rubbing my hand over my face before digging the palm of my hand into my eye socket. </p><p>“Alright, I’m coming. But you’re buying me breakfast - and lunch!”</p><p>She chuckled. “Of course.”</p><p>“See you soon.”</p><p>“Be quick!”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered before ending the call and chucking my phone onto the bed. I whimpered like the baby I was, battling a wave of nausea. I took a few deep breaths before getting to my feet, only to have the ground underneath me sway dangerously. I covered my eyes and moaned again, before dragging my sorry arse to the shower.</p><p>I can’t remember much of what happened last night. </p><p>I remember meeting that guy… Shirl… Sher…? Sherlock something. And I remember feeling waaaay over my head with him. </p><p>But then the shots had started, and the dancing, the shouting and the singing. Noise and swaying and laughing. It all kind of blurred together.</p><p>But considering I hadn’t really ever drunk much in my life, I was quite impressed that I managed to get half-way through my shower before I launched myself over the floor and just about made it to the rim of the toilet bowl. </p><p>I think I puked up a kidney, though.</p><hr/><p>“John- Oh my God.”</p><p>I felt my brows knit together at the sheer volume that Molly spoke. Even though it wasn’t any higher than a squeak, it sounded like a gong around my head. She covered her mouth to stifle her giggle and I gave her a sarcastic smirk. </p><p>I walked past her and towards the staff room. I finished the dregs from my ridiculously big takeaway coffee cup before I dumped it into the bin. Chewing down a handful of paracetamol hadn’t done much aside from taking the worst of the pounding away. Medically, I knew that I was dehydrated and needing to replace electrolytes, as well as give my body food to refuel itself. </p><p>But the idea of food made my stomach roll dangerously, and I blew a hard breath from between my teeth. </p><p>The smell of the hospital seemed even harsher, burning my nostrils and settling on my still-dry tongue.</p><p>Feeling exhausted and extremely sorry for myself, I chucked my shit into a locker and pulled on my white coat. How I was supposed to be cutting up bodies, I had no idea. Hopefully Molly would let me do the paperwork. </p><p>“I took the liberty of buying you this,” she said with a barely concealed grin as I approached her. She held out a 500ml orange bottle of Lucozade and I smirked despite myself. </p><p>“Thank you,” I rasped, clearing my throat before taking a tentative sip. It was bubbly and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t make me want to wretch. </p><p>Before long, the two of us were sorting through the mass of body bags that were piled up in the large freezer. The worst part about it was the fact that this wasn’t even all of them. We only had a few, the rest had been sent to the bigger hospitals. </p><p>The only way I could get through it was to completely detach myself. </p><p>Molly and I started to catalogue the bodies, stripping them of their personal items and trying to identify as many as we could from that alone. </p><p>It was robotic, and maybe heartless, but if I didn’t look at it solely from a medical mind then I would lose hold of my rational mind, and I would be a complete mess. </p><p>We worked like this for a few hours until the bodies were stored in the fridges, ready for autopsies if they needed them. </p><p>I was finishing up some paperwork, letting go of my medical mind before I stepped back into the main part of the morgue. I saw Molly in the staff room at the far end, whirring a jug under the steam wand of our posh coffee maker. I smiled, setting the paperwork down and heading towards her. </p><p>“Ah Molly, you’re a star,” I sighed, reaching for the cup and saucer that had a fresh, steaming and frothy coffee in it. </p><p>As my hand reached out, there was a sharp tap and I yanked it away. </p><p>“Ow!”</p><p>“This is not for you,” she said, jutting out her chin as she continued digging through the cupboards. I pouted, looking at the coffee and then around the deserted morgue. </p><p>I opened and closed my mouth, feeling petulant, but she ignored me. Instead she placed two digestives on the saucer before picking up the cup triumphantly.</p><p>“You don’t drink coffee,” I whined, and she flashed me a sweet little smile. I narrowed my eyes, stepping closer to her before she could run off. </p><p>“Who’s that for?” I asked slowly, taking in the way a lick of colour was winding around her cheeks, and the way she pointedly avoided my eyes. </p><p>My lips parted as the penny dropped. </p><p>“Is that for Mr Mystery?” I gasped, giving her a teasing grin. She was trying to hold back a smile, still looking at the floor as she skirted around me. </p><p>“It’s going to get cold,” she muttered, but I was already on her heel. </p><p>“Have you asked him out yet?” I asked, to which she squeaked, nearly bumping into a table as she tried to get away from me. I cackled, feeling better than I had this morning, especially when I could tease my boss. </p><p>“Stop it!” she hissed, moving from the main room and towards the labs. I was still smiling as I kept on her tail, until she turned to me just outside the lab door. </p><p>“John, no! No, stay here. Stay!”</p><p>I was on my tip toes, looking over the top of her head as I tried to glimpse into the labs. I could see a figure, hunched over a table, but that was about it. </p><p>“Oh come on, introduce me. I promise I’ll be good.”</p><p>Molly narrowed her eyes at me, but it just made her look like one of those angry, fluffy kittens I saw on the internet all the time. I snickered, pointing at the coffee. </p><p>“It’ll get cold,” I smiled, and she finally huffed. </p><p>“Fine! Open the door, and please don’t say anything to him. I’ll… I’ll ask him out. I will.” She inclined her head. “Later.”</p><p>I cocked my head, smiling fondly. I hadn’t known her long, but there was a sweetness to her that made her endearing. She would be a doting girlfriend, who would be thoughtful and kind. But she was also naive, and I suddenly found the strangest urge to protect her. Someone as innocent as Molly needed a big brother figure, because she only saw the good in everyone. </p><p>“Alright,” I said softly, pushing the door open for her to get through. I hovered behind a little, giving her a chance to get his attention before I stepped into the room. </p><p>“Molly I need- oh hello,” I said with an innocent smile, catching the little side-glance from Molly as she was setting the cup down next to the figure. </p><p>Finally, I turned my eyes to the stranger who was lifting his head. </p><p>The moment our eyes met across the room, I felt the force of something hit me hard in the gut, wrenching the breath from my lungs and freezing my face solid. </p><p>The surprise was shared between us, for what felt like a lifetime, until Molly’s sweet little voice piped up. </p><p>“Sherlock, this is John, my new assistant” she said with a smile, still oblivious to the surprise painted on our faces. My lips parted and I took a shuddering breath. </p><p>How… why… <em> why </em> was he here? This couldn't be Molly’s Mr Mystery. It just… couldn't. </p><p>Sherlock recovered first, turning his head towards the petite brunette at his side, before reaching out and taking his coffee. </p><p>The reprieve from those startlingly bright eyes brought the breath back to my lungs, and I tried not to gape like a fish as I turned my head and fought to regain some composure. I put my hands in my coat pocket and looked back to see Sherlock taking a tentative sip of the drink. He winced and set it back down hard.  </p><p>“Cold.”</p><p>Molly’s eyes widened and she reached down, picking up the mug and sending a small glare my way as though it was all my fault. </p><p>I scoffed, gaining the man’s attention. His face remained stoic but he raised an eyebrow at me. </p><p>“Thank you’ I think is the word you’re looking for,” I said as politely as I could, but a little bite still got through. Molly blanched, looking at Sherlock and then at me, her eyes pleading. I shrugged. Well, it was rude. No thank you, no sorry it’s a bit cold, no nothing. Just a blatant statement that made a little crease of concern bump in between Molly’s big brown eyes. </p><p>Sherlock was watching me, his eyes narrowed a little, as though he was reading my every thought. I stood up a little straighter, jutting out my chin in quiet challenge. A twitch in the corner of his mouth revealed that half-smirk he’d been giving me the night before. Then he turned, his glossy black curls bouncing as he looked into the little brunette’s eyes. </p><p>“Sorry Molly, how rude of me.<em> Thank you </em> for the coffee, but unfortunately it’s gone cold. Would you mind ever so much making me a new one? <em> Please </em>?”</p><p>The man’s voice pitched and dropped in time with his drawn out words, and he deliberately dropped an octave when he said please, moving into that damned purr he’d used on me at the bar. </p><p>I ground my jaw to stop myself from reacting, but Molly wasn’t so lucky. Her eyes went impossibly wide, and colour rushed to her face with dizzying speed. She squeaked in a way that was quite reminiscent of a Fae, before nodding her head furiously. She held the cup so hard it looked like it was about to shatter, before she practically bounced past me and out of the labs. </p><p>I turned on my heel, about to do the same, when that voice cut through the air like a knife. </p><p>“John, was it? Can I use your phone? Mine is dead.”</p><p>I paused with one hand holding the door open, and my back to the man. It was like his eyes were a physical thing, and I could feel them almost pressing against me. I squeezed the door to stop myself from shuddering, because this was fucking ridiculous. </p><p>
  <em> You’re hungover, tired, and was not expecting this today. Overworked and hungry. That’s it. Don’t take it out on this poor bloke. </em>
</p><p>I sighed, turning and striding towards Sherlock without meeting his eyes. I took out my phone and held it out to the man over the table, but when he didn’t immediately take it, I looked into his face. </p><p>Those eyes nearly took my breath away, and I cleared my throat before looking at him expectantly. </p><p>He didn’t move to take it though, and those eyes started their little flickering dance like they had done last night. Like they were scanning me for signs of weakness or something. </p><p>“You look rather… delicate.”</p><p>I let out a long suffering sigh, leaning back and taking my phone with me. When I looked up again, I saw amusement dancing in those eyes and I couldn't stop a small smile. </p><p>“I am. I was supposed to be off today.”</p><p>“Is that why you got blindingly drunk?” </p><p>I cocked my head to the side. “I suppose…?”</p><p>“And continuously tried to ‘pull’, as it were?”</p><p>I crossed my arms over my chest. </p><p>“Doesn’t everyone when they’re at a nightclub?”</p><p>“No,” said Sherlock as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t.”</p><p>I snorted, shaking my head dubiously, to which Sherlock’s head snapped back towards me with a sharp edge to his eyes. </p><p>“Sure,” I said, holding out my phone again. “Do you want this or not? I’ve only got an hour break and I’m starving.”</p><p>Sherlock leaned back in his chair, eyes flickering back and forth before he finally reached out and took my phone. It didn’t have a lock on it, and the man turned it sideways before he started to tap the screen furiously again. </p><p>I took his moment of distraction to study him. He seemed different under the fluorescent lights, but no less regal. His features seemed harsher, his hair softer. He wore the same black coat but the shirt underneath was a pale blue. </p><p>It kind of annoyed me that he was just as beautiful in my sober eyes as he was in my drunk ones. No idea why. </p><p>“Thank you,” he said after another moment, before handing me back my phone. I nodded, slipping it back into my pocket before turning and heading once again for the door. </p><p>“You don’t seem pleased to see me.”</p><p>I felt my shoulders slump. My hand was just inches away from the door handle. </p><p>“I don’t even know you,” I replied, although my heart jumped a little. </p><p>“I know <em> you.” </em></p><p>I spun on my heel, setting the man with a hard look. </p><p>“Is that because you’re stalking me?”</p><p>Sherlock chuckled, the sound seemingly vibrating through the walls. </p><p>“Don’t flatter yourself, Just John.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes. </p><p>“You don’t know anything about me,” I clarified, before my phone chimed in my pocket. I checked the message, but it was from an unknown number and it didn’t make sense anyway. </p><p>“I know that you’re new to London, that you’re from either Cornwall or Devon; that you’re unsure of your own sexuality, and that I intrigue you despite your better judgement.”</p><p>Sherlock was wearing a smug smirk, but I wasn’t impressed. </p><p>“That’s all pretty obvious,” was all I managed. My stomach rumbled, but I had to admit that Sherlock was definitely right - I <em> was </em> intrigued by him. </p><p>“Is it now.” Again, not a question. Sherlock slowly, deliberately leaned onto his elbows, putting his palms together and brushing his chin over the tips of his fingers. </p><p>“Your skin is slightly tanned which means that you’re used to being outside. There’s not much chance of that in London considering you work in a lab and the buildings shadow the majority of the city. You’re on high alert, because you’re unfamiliar, and everything seems new to you - so, new to London. Probably used to a simpler life. Your clothes are kept well, but old, so you’re lacking funds which is common for young Immortals who have just come to the city. Your phone is an older model, but is still in good condition, so it was purchased second hand. You also only have two contacts in your phone which I assume are the Witch and the Healer that you were out with last night. So you don’t have much money, and that concludes you must live in a tiny speck of an apartment. Considering that you’re an Immortal working as an assistant, you’re obviously young and haven’t had the expansive training to gain the qualifications needed to be in a better paying job. Yet despite your youth and lack of money, you chose to work in a hospital - so you’re drawn to it. And you work with dead bodies, so you’re familiar with death. That and the way you carry yourself means you’re not only a healer of some kind, but you’re also a trained soldier. There’s only one race that is both. You’re not Elafae like you want everyone else to believe - you’re Elvanae. But, the question that I don’t have an answer to is <em> why </em>. Why London? Why have you left the safety of your Tribe?”</p><p>Sherlock’s words echoed to a stop, and I took in a sharp breath. My mind was reeling, my body taut, and I stared at the man as though he’d grown another head. </p><p>“That was-”</p><p>“Basic-”</p><p>“-Brilliant.”</p><p>Sherlock’s mouth closed with an audible snap, and he narrowed his eyes as he regarded me. I blinked quickly, turning my head and taking a few more breaths. My arm started to itch and I rubbed it idly, before the realisation that he’d just dissected me like an insect within moments. And he knew. He <em> knew </em>.</p><p>“Don’t panic,” said Sherlock smoothly, turning his attention back to his microscope. “I’ve no need to tell anyone.”</p><p>I took another shuddering breath, running my hand over my mouth, but was interrupted by the door swinging open and Molly bounding back into the room. She set the drink besides Sherlock, a smile from ear to ear, but the man was paying more attention to the microscope. </p><p>“Molly I’m… I’m going to lunch.”</p><p>“Oh, John-”</p><p>I barely caught her voice as I was already storming from the room and out of sight of those prying eyes.</p><hr/><p>I let out a long breath as my head tipped back, resting against the rough bark of a tree. The park around me was blissfully quiet, but then again, it did look like it was about to rain. I didn’t care. The park smelled like grass and flowers and remnants of humans, and it was soothing to my tired, dehydrated mind. </p><p>I sat there for a long while, just breathing in while my eyes fluttered closed. So much for keeping who I am a secret. Not that I’d done anything in particular to give myself away. Sure, most Elafae who lived in London were barely recognisable as such. They’d all but lost their fae characteristics, so me having pointed ears was more noticeable I supposed. I sighed, picking up the sandwich I’d bought from a small Tesco on my way to the park. </p><p>I’d just taken a bite when my phone chirped, and I realised that I hadn’t even taken my white coat off when I left. </p><p>Swiping the screen open, I frowned at what I saw. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Did I frighten you? -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“How the hell…”</p><p>I closed the message and went into my contacts, scoffing when I saw Sherlock Holmes’ number saved there. The bloody man had added himself to my phone. What an arrogant arse. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I sent the reply, nodding in satisfaction as I took another bite of my tuna mayo. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Then why did you leave so quickly? -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Because it was my break and I was hungry. I’ve got shit to do, Mr Holmes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The reply was almost instant. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Please. Call me Sherlock. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I rolled my eyes, putting my phone on the grass and focusing on my food. I opened my can of pop and drank from it deeply, glad that I was able to keep it down. As if waiting for its cue, my headache started up again with all the vigor of a marching band. I winced, and my phone chime jumped into the crescendo. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I suppose you have questions. -SH </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I have questions. -SH </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why aren’t you responding? -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’m eating. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You’re a very slow eater, Just John. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Stop calling me that. It’s not cute.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It is, but fine. John it is, then. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I chewed slowly, thoughtfully, wondering why I felt so agitated by the man. One minute he’s interesting and, alright, a little bit <em> sexy. </em>The next he’s brilliant and frustrating. In all honesty, I never expected to see him again. Probably why I’d been so forward. What were the chances that this guy was Molly’s Mr Mystery? And not just that, but it didn’t seem like Sherlock was into her at all. I pinched the bridge of my nose, settling back against the tree with my phone in one hand, and my can of pop in the other. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why did you put your number in my phone?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> So that you knew who was texting you. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And why would you text me?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why wouldn’t I? I feel as though our conversation isn’t over. I also never got the chance to thank you for your assistance last night. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A smile tugged at my lips and I shook my head. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was a one time thing. What kind of detective would you be if you constantly got help from random guys in bars? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Probably very similar to most. Scotland Yard is lacking much, especially intelligence. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Thank the gods they’ve got you then, eh? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Exactly. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I laughed. So very modest. I looked around the park again, feeling the first telltale pattering of what would be an impressive downpour. With a reluctant sigh, I got to my feet and chucked my rubbish into a bin nearby. My phone chimed in my hand, and I glanced at it casually. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How long is your break? -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You owe me a drink. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I huffed, stepping from the park and back into the main street. People rushed back and forth, busy in their day, and here I was - chatting with a random bloke. The world was funny like that. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No, no more drinking. I’ll never drink again.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Doubtful. -SH </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s also only one o’clock in the afternoon, hardly time for alcohol. -SH </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Coffee? -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I don’t know why, but my first instinct was to say no. This man already knew too much, and for all I knew he could be some kind of spy for the Immortals. He could be leading me into a trap. I’d be caught and captured and forced into slavery like so many of my kind. I shuddered at the thought. I should just turn the man down, say no, tell him to leave me alone and hope that he didn’t sell me out. </p><p>My hand hovered over the screen and I bit the inside of my lip. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> John? -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Probably not a good idea.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Because I don’t know you.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You’ll never get to know me if we never meet. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why are you being so insistent?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Because you’re interesting. And there is so very little in this world that interests me, John. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>My tongue darted over my lower lip, and I checked the time on my phone. I only had twenty minutes of my break left. Hardly time for a conversation. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I don’t really have time right now.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Then when do you have time? -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I sighed, looking over at St Bart’s as it came into view. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’m off tomorrow.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Excellent. Tomorrow it is. -SH </em>
</p><p>
  <em> See you then, Just John. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I smirked despite myself. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Still not cute.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t get a reply.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Mysterious Fascination</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just wanted to say thank you for all the kudos and the reviews, I'm really glad some people are enjoying this. I know it doesn't make much sense right now, but it will. Much love.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Excerpt from <em>The Book of Immortality </em>by No One</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Chapter 20 - Destined</strong>
</p><p><em>Destined are said to be a single souls bound to another. It is an enigma in the Immortal world as no mortal has ever shown this particular necessity. The Destined couple can be born both minutes and millenia apart, and many Immortals spend their lives seeking their one and only. There have been many theories around this phenomina, and despite the multiple sudies there seems to be no singular explanation as to why this happens. Gender or race are not a factor in this process, and each species of Immortal have found their own ways to Bond to their Destined. (Please see Chapter 25 for more on</em> <strong><em>Bonding Rituals</em></strong><em>.)</em></p><hr/><p>I couldn't say whether I’d been lost in a blissful dream or just floating about my unconscious because I was woken up so suddenly that my brain reset itself. My blanket was wrenched from my body and I gasped, my trained muscles quick to pick up on the intrusion even though my mind was sluggish to respond. </p><p>I flipped from the bed, already crouched and eyes scanning the room for a threat. </p><p>The only thing I saw though, were two mirrored eyes and Suki standing at the foot of my bed, clutching my quilt and looking like a deer in headlights.</p><p>She squeaked something that sounded like my name, and I frowned. </p><p>“Suki, I told you not to jump me.”</p><p>She blinked, her eyes still reflective and I could smell the faint coppery tang of magic in the air. I glanced to the door just as Nat ran at it, bracing herself on the frame and frantically searching. </p><p>Suki turned to her but Nat was watching me, her brows drawn together. I slowly got to my feet and groaned as I rubbed my palm into my eye sockets. </p><p>“Sorry,” peeped the little witch, and a rush of guilt accompanied my dry mouth and fuzzing brain. </p><p>I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. Sorry I scared you.”</p><p>I realised that I was standing in nothing but my boxers. I reached out and took the quilt from Suki before wrapping myself up head to toe and plopping back onto my bed. </p><p>Nat had already wrapped her arms around Suki, comforting her even though there was no danger. Just a little fright. </p><p>“Why did you wake me up?” I asked before a yawn cracked my jaw. Suki suddenly gasped, jumping forward.</p><p>“John! weren’t you supposed to meet that guy for coffee?”</p><p>“Ah, bollocks. What time is it?” I asked, even though I was already scrambling for my phone. It flickered into life and I winced as I saw it was quarter past four in the afternoon. There were four new messages and I groaned, already untangling myself from the quilt.</p><p>“Balls,” I muttered, swiping open the messages.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 11:04  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Good morning, John. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 11:22  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Do you still want to meet for coffee? -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 13.51  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I assume not. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 14:11 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Apologies. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Balls!” </p><p>Suki and Nat watched me as I stood there, frantically tapping at my phone. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sherlock I’m sorry. I was asleep. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I don’t know why my heart was in my throat. Probably because I’d arranged to meet him and from his point of view, I’d blatantly ignored him. Firstly, it was rude. And secondly… I didn’t know what was secondly, but it made something twist in my gut. I looked over at Suki and Nat who were watching me with bated breath. I looked down at my screen, and when it chimed the three of us all let out a relieved huff. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s four in the afternoon. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I know. I was in the labs until nine, and I was still hungover.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Still want that coffee? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I slowly sank back onto my bed, and the girls were quick to join me. I’d told them all about my encounter with Sherlock in the labs last night, mostly because I couldn't keep it to myself. It was confusing, but oddly exciting, and they seemed just as invested as I was. I looked over at Nat, who gave me an encouraging smile. My phone beeped and we all leaned over. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s a bit late for coffee. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no,” breathed Suki before she wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I sucked my teeth, sighing. </p><p>“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter-”</p><p>My phone chimed. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dinner? -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Nat and Suki both made some kind of strangled noise that reminded me of the stray cat that seemed to sit right under my window. I couldn't stop a smirk. Nat jumped up and pulled me with her.</p><p>“Go and have a shower, you stink.”</p><p>I scoffed but she was already shoving me towards my bathroom. Suki had started rummaging through my drawers and I stilled.</p><p>“Suki no, I’ve just sorted-”</p><p>“Go!” snapped Nat with a grin, giving me another hard push and I grunted as I nearly smacked into the doorframe. I turned and gave her a glare, to which she blew a kiss, before getting into my tiny bathroom and closing the door. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yeah, sounds good. Where do you want to meet? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I reached over and turned on the shower, setting my phone on the sink as I rid myself of my boxers. The phone chimed and I nearly tripped on my bloody pants. I sighed, looking at myself in the mirror. </p><p>
  <em> You are not some teenager. You are a grown man. </em>
</p><p>I shrugged, turning back to the phone screen. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Do you know Northumberland Street? -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Um, no. But I can find it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Excellent. I’ll meet you there in an hour. -SH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I huffed out a sigh, sending a quick ‘OK’ before I jumped into the shower. </p><hr/><p>Forty-five minutes later, I was feeling flushed and half-awake, clutching my phone like a life-line as I wandered aimlessly down a street. The map on my phone was telling me that I was on Northumberland Street, although I couldn't see a Tall, Pale and Handsome anywhere.</p><p>I mentally scolded myself. This wasn’t a date. I mean, I didn’t know <em> what </em> it was, but Sherlock had said something about questions? Plus, I needed to make sure that he was being honest when he said he wouldn’t tell anyone that I was Elvanae. </p><p>That was what I told myself, anyway. </p><p>I stopped at the corner, looking up at a sign above me. It was definitely the right street, but I still couldn't-</p><p>“Hello.”</p><p>“<em>Fuck!</em>”</p><p>I span on my heel to face the sudden voice, my body tensed and ready for a fight. Sherlock stood a few paces away from me, all long legs and turned up collars. He had his hands in his pockets and a semi-amused smirk on his face. I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips, taking a short breath to calm my racing heart. </p><p>“You’ll give me a heart-attack,” I muttered, to which Sherlock raised an eyebrow. </p><p>“That’s impossible. Immortal’s can’t have heart attacks.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes at him, before I slipped my phone back in my pocket. The air around us seemed to tense a little as we both realised that we were standing here, just staring. I cleared my throat and glanced around. </p><p>“So, where are we eating? I’m starving.”</p><p>I tried to spot a cafe or a fast food restaurant. Something cheap and cheerful, but Sherlock nodded at the plush looking restaurant nestled between two apartments just across the way. </p><p>“Oh, I ah…” I felt my shoulders hunch as I frowned at the restaurant. It looked nice, so it would be something I couldn't afford. Not at the prices some places charged for food in London. Sherlock seemed to have read my thoughts, because he chuckled lightly and started across the street.</p><p>“Sherlock, listen. I can’t, um…”</p><p>“No need to worry about it, John.”</p><p>For some reason, I bristled at the thought of Sherlock buying the food. No idea why, considering it was supposed to be a nice thing to do. Maybe because it wasn’t a date, so it should be an equal share? Or maybe because I had this weird, incessant need to be the one to pay. Which was a very… patriarchal thing to want. I sighed, lowering my head as I followed the other across the street. </p><p>Sherlock waltzed into the restaurant like he owned the place, and I followed in after, casting my eyes around. It was all pale wood and white accents, with soft lights and shimmering glass. Very pretty, very chic. </p><p>I glanced at the menu on a table as I passed and I grimaced. </p><p>Very expensive. </p><p>Sherlock sat in a small booth-like table nestled into the window, looking out over the street. I chewed my inner lip as I followed him, taking off my jacket and sitting down opposite. </p><p>Sherlock had relieved himself of his own coat, and I noticed the fitted grey shirt he was wearing. I glanced away almost the moment I saw it, because the last thing I needed was Sherlock to think I was ogling. </p><p>Although from the smirk playing on his lips, he thought that anyway. </p><p>I turned to him as I folded my hands on the table, my mouth open to ask what this was all about, but we were interrupted as a big, rather burly man burst through a door and stormed towards us. </p><p>“Sherlock!” he roared, his face alight with pure joy as he reached down and grabbed the other, yanking him into a hug that made Sherlock’s nose crinkle. </p><p>“Ah this man,” gushed the stranger, leaning back at Sherlock’s wriggling, but not without taking his hand and shaking enthusiastically. The stranger turned to me, pride beaming in his face. </p><p>“This man is amazing, he is! Saved me from prison!”</p><p>Sherlock rolled his eyes, but there lacked any real sarcasm to it. </p><p>“John, this is Angelo. I managed to get him out of a murder charge by proving that he was actually on the other side of London at the time - stealing.”</p><p>Angelo chuckled, still shaking the other’s hand. </p><p>“Only did three years instead of life! But anything you want Sherlock, anything at all and it’s on the house. You and your date have anything! I’ll go get a candle, much more romantic.”</p><p>I opened my mouth, my hand reaching up to correct the man on his assumption, but he was already gone. I snapped my jaw shut, curling my fingers before I sighed, turning back to the other. </p><p>Sherlock was pointedly not meeting my eyes, but he turned when Angelo slipped back towards our table to put a little candle in the middle, smiling and nodding at me before he snuck away again. </p><p>For some reason, I felt a giggle tickling the back of my throat. It came out as a shrill, very Fae trill, like a high-pitched purr. </p><p>Sherlock turned his head as I cleared my throat, only slightly mortified by the sound. </p><p>“So,” I said, reaching out for the menu and searching through the dishes. “What did you want to talk about?”</p><p>My eyes ran over the menu, but I wasn’t really seeing anything. Instead I was lost in my senses, feeling eyes on me as well as hearing quiet chatter of the other couples in the restaurant. It felt like I was hyper-aware, that any tiny movement caught my attention. </p><p>I managed to sit there for about a minute before I flicked my eyes upwards, and Sherlock looked like he was studying me. I started at being confronted with those bright eyes. </p><p>“Hello?” </p><p>“Are you sure you’re a Fae?”</p><p>The question made me frown, even though my heart jumped into my throat. </p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, and Sherlock watched me intensely for another moment, before he picked up his own menu. </p><p>“Wine?”</p><p>I set my menu down. </p><p>“What is it that you actually want from me, Sherlock?” I asked, deciding that I wasn’t enjoying this… weird vibe. I was here at Sherlock’s invite, and yet the man looked like I was a bug under a magnifying glass. He turned to regard me stoically, before he set his own menu down and leaned forward. </p><p>“I have no idea,” he said, completely at ease with his own confusion. My lip turned upwards and I cocked my head. </p><p>“Eh? What?”</p><p>“I seem to have developed a fascination with you, and I have no idea why. Isn’t that good?” He grinned at me, his eyes flashing with excitement and my frown deepened. </p><p>“How is that good?”</p><p>Sherlock shrugged, still smiling maniacally. </p><p>“It’s a mystery, John! A challenge, and I’m determined to solve it! I assume it’s something to do with your race, although I’ve never been particularly interested in the Fae. Rather simple minded and rely far too much on their appearance.”</p><p>I scoffed, my eyebrows raising. But Sherlock continued, almost monologuing to himself. </p><p>“Perhaps it was your assistance the other night - no one has voluntarily helped me before. Gratitude, perhaps? If that’s the case, then repaying you with a meal should be sufficient, don’t you think?”</p><p>I opened my mouth, glancing around the restaurant. Angelo was behind the bar and he smiled at me, lifting a bottle in his hand. </p><p>“Are you… asking my opinion, or…?”</p><p>Sherlock sighed, leaning forward on the table and staring into my face. I leaned back, brows knitted. Oh God, I’d found a crazy. Of course I had. Why wouldn’t I? </p><p>Sherlock’s eyes were flitting over my face in that almost robotic way, before he huffed out a breath. </p><p>“I’m completely sane, thank you. No need to look at me like that.”</p><p>“Like what?” I gaped, my head spinning at the speed Sherlock talked. “I didn’t do anything.”</p><p>Sherlock sat back just as Angelo came to our table, setting the bottle he’d been waving down, along with two glasses. I gave the man an uneasy smile as he poured some bubbly into each of the glasses, then he bowed and moved away again. </p><p>Sherlock muttered something to himself and my spine straightened. </p><p>“‘Scuse me?”</p><p>“I’m listing the possible reasons,” he clarified, and I sat back on the seat heavily. I reached out for my glass, downing the contents before I got to my feet. Sherlock started, looking up at me through thick lashes. </p><p>“John?”</p><p>"I’ve no intention to sit here and be dissected,” I announced, reaching to grab my coat. As I turned, I felt something soft and freezing grab my hand. I jumped, looking down to see Sherlock’s slender fingers wrapped around my palm, and I turned to see him watching me with wide eyes. For a moment I was stunned, because it felt like they were piercing right through me. A shiver ran down my spine. </p><p>“I apologise,” he said, the hand over my own tightening to a degree. “Please don’t leave. Have a meal with me, and perhaps we can… figure it out together?”</p><p>I frowned. </p><p>“Figure out what, Sherlock? You’re not making any sense.”</p><p>The corner of his mouth quirked. </p><p>“I know. I’ll explain. Come and sit - Angelo really does serve great food.”</p><p>Heaving a great sigh, I slowly sank back down into the chair. Sherlock gave me an easy smile, which was far too sweet for the situation, but it did help relax me a little. The other refilled my glass with champagne, and then picked up his own. He held it aloft and I slowly grabbed mine. Sherlock clinked them together before the two of us took a sip. My eyes never left Sherlock’s, and his never left mine. </p><p>After a few moments of intense silence, Angelo promptly interrupted. I scrambled for my menu, scanning over it quickly before I ordered some kind of steak dish. Sherlock ordered himself a small platter of meats and I turned to him curiously. </p><p>“Not hungry?”</p><p>He smiled faintly. “A little. But they don’t really cater to my… diet.”</p><p>I frowned, looking the man over. Then it hit me. </p><p>I had no idea what the fuck Sherlock Holmes <em> was</em>. </p><p>The man chuckled, seeming to understand my realisation. He leaned on his elbows before his eyes did that flickering thing. </p><p>“Guess.”</p><p>“Hm?” I asked innocently, to which he gave me a toothy grin. </p><p>“Guess. I want to see if you can come to a conclusion without any clues.”</p><p>I pursed my lips. “Why?”</p><p>“Humour me.”</p><p>I sighed dramatically, crossing my arms. I turned to the other, regarding him through squinted eyes. Sherlock leaned back, sitting straight and raising his chin so that I had a full view of his face. </p><p>I wracked my brain for my lessons in history and Immortality. We had learned about the other races, some in great detail, but others only briefly. </p><p>My eyes moved down the sharp curve of his jaw and over his slender neck. I kept my eyes on his pulse point, focusing hard until I saw the gentle flicker of his heartbeat. Not Undead. Nodding to myself, I moved my eyes over his chest, to his arms. There were no signs of markings on his body. I hadn’t seen his eyes flash like Suki’s did, and I couldn't smell the sweet pang of magic on him, either. Sherlock cocked his head and bore his teeth, seemingly enjoying the scrutiny. I leaned forward, but there were no fangs. I hummed, inhaling through my nose. But I couldn't smell anything, not even the hint of a cologne. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about him, save his good looks and his sharp mind. I huffed, sitting back with a shrug. </p><p>“Necromancer? Magi? Shifter?”</p><p>Sherlock seemed to almost preen in his smugness and I let out a humph.</p><p>“I’ll give you a clue,” he said, almost teasingly. I watched him expectantly, braced for anything. Not like he could do much in a restaurant full of humans. </p><p>The man smirked before he let his eyes flutter closed. </p><p>I gasped when he opened them. </p><p>Sherlock’s eyes had gone completely black, save for the faint outline of his irises, but they were too far away to make out in detail. He blinked again and his eyes were back to their shocking greeny-blue. </p><p>“Oh,” I breathed, my heart stuttering in my chest. “Oh… demon.”</p><p>Sherlock scrunched up his face in distaste, straightening his spine. </p><p>“Blood demon, actually.”</p><p>I frowned. </p><p>“There’s a difference?"</p><p>The man started, setting me with a hard look that made me want to giggle. </p><p>“Yes, a great one.”</p><p>He had gone pretty hauty, as though my referring to him as 'just' a demon was a great insult. I felt a smile playing on my lips as I gestured for him to continue. </p><p>Sherlock scoffed. </p><p>“We are more powerful and far more intelligent than a common demon,” he said, to which I inclined my head. </p><p>“If you say so.”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“Alright then.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>I couldn't help myself, snickering before I laughed outright, shaking my head. Sherlock looked down at me for a moment before his expression crumpled, and a smile snaked along his face. </p><p>“I didn’t know that Blood Demons looked so… human.”</p><p>Sherlock rolled his eyes, but didn’t reply as our food was set down in front of us. </p><p>“We don’t,” he said as his eyes looked over his platter. “We have fully integrated into human society, and thus have the ability to shift between our true appearance and our human guises.” </p><p>I rolled my knife in my hand, stabbing a chip before I regarded the other out of the corner of my eye. He seemed to sense me, looking up just as I glanced away. </p><p>My curiosity had flickered into life, and I couldn't help but imagine what Sherlock looked like in his ‘true’ form. </p><p>“You wouldn’t like it,” said the demon suddenly and I glanced up. “It would scare you.”</p><p>I dug into my steak, cutting off a generous chunk. </p><p>“I don’t scare easily.”</p><p>“Men have run screaming from seeing us.”</p><p>“Good job I’m not an ordinary man, then.”</p><p>I bit the steak from my fork, smiling as I chewed. Sherlock was watching me steadily, like I’d grown another head again. </p><p>“No… you’re not.”</p><p>It didn’t necessarily sound like a compliment, but there was something in the way Sherlock’s voice dropped a little that made me want to shiver. That voice... it made me feel all tingly and hot at the same time. I’m not sure how much of my reaction showed on my face, but I saw the ghost of a smile as Sherlock tucked into his own food. </p><p>We ate in companionable silence for a while, sharing a few random looks here and there. My mind was whirring. I’d learned a few things, but was lacking in even more. What had Sherlock meant when he said he was fascinated by me? Aside from me being an Elvanae, there was nothing remotely unique about me. I could be any man from the street. </p><p>Well, that was what I was going for anyway. </p><p>So why was the demon intrigued? What did I exhume that made him want to ‘figure’ me out?</p><p>My questions must have been obvious, because Sherlock suddenly sat back. He hadn’t eaten much of his food, and part of me wondered if he’d ordered food for himself just so I wasn’t eating alone. </p><p>From what I remembered, demons fed off energy rather than actual food. I assumed that Sherlock did the same, although I couldn't be sure. I didn’t know enough about Blood Demons to make an assumption. </p><p>“It’s odd,” said Sherlock suddenly, drawing my attention. “I tend to be quite oblivious sometimes when it comes to people. I have difficulty reading expressions or picking up social cues but… I can see the questions on your face as though they’re written there.”</p><p>I wasn’t quite sure what to say, but I could feel a lick of heat trailing up my neck. </p><p>“That is weird,” was all I managed, finishing my meal before I sat back, stuffed. </p><p>“Could be a side effect of this fascination of yours?” I added thoughtfully.</p><p>Sherlock smiled faintly, picking up his glass and taking a sip. I did the same, and for another long moment we just watched each other. </p><p>“You said that you were going to explain everything to me.”</p><p>Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, as though he’d forgotten, before he sat forward. His features softened, his lips pulling down and looking incredibly young. Nervous? </p><p>“I’ve been alive for over a thousand years,” he started, but my jaw hitting the floor seemed to stop him. </p><p>“A - a thousand years?” I squeaked. I mean, I knew that some Immortals were old, but that was just… on a whole other level.</p><p>“Yes?” he said, obviously unsure what my reaction meant. I shook my head before I looked at the over in wonder. </p><p>“You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”</p><p>Sherlock let out a surprised laugh. “Thus the term Immortal.”</p><p>I snickered, still unable to shake my surprise. But I did gesture for Sherlock to continue.</p><p>“Yes, well. I spent a lot of my life in my homeland - <em> Infernis </em> - but I was restless. Honestly, Blood Demons and their politics are <em> so </em>boring. I came to the mortal world because at least humans weren’t all predictable.”</p><p>Sherlock wasn’t exactly answering the question, but I found I was just as invested in his history as I was his answer. Plus, <em> a thousand years.</em></p><p>“Nothing ever really interested me except the mystery, and that’s usually over so quickly. I’ve never bothered with people, be human or Immortal. There’s always sentiment and apparently I don’t understand ‘boundaries’.”</p><p>The demon rolled his eyes but I nodded my head. I could kind of imagine that. Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly but I just gave him an innocent look, sipping at my drink.</p><p>“But…?” I pushed, because Sherlock licked his lips and avoided my eyes. </p><p>“But… not with you.”</p><p>I studied my glass for a moment so that I could maintain my composure. </p><p>“Want to clarify?” I said, although my voice was a little uneven. Sherlock huffed out a frustrated breath. </p><p>“I’m trying, but as I said - I don’t understand it. You interest me. I find myself wanting to talk to you, to get to know you. When you speak, I don’t imagine the seven different ways I could hide a body.”</p><p>I spluttered into my drink, coughing and laughing at the same time.</p><p>“Gods I hope you’re joking.”</p><p>Sherlock smirked at me, even though he never confirmed or denied it. Strangely, it didn’t make me want to run away screaming <em> Stranger Danger.</em></p><p>“But the point is why? There’s nothing remotely unique about you.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“No, that’s not - see? I’m flustered. It’s so inconvenient, and quite annoying actually.”</p><p>I licked my lower lip, watching as Sherlock’s expression went from confused to irritated. When he frowned, I noticed a little crinkle in the corner of his eyes. It was quite adorable really, considering the demon was a <em> thousand </em>years old. I couldn't let that go. </p><p>“Well, Sherlock,” I said slowly, pointedly avoiding his eyes. “It could be a couple of things. I’m interesting to you because… I don’t know, I’m hilarious? Handsome? Cheeky?”</p><p>I smiled as I spoke, and I was glad to see that frown smooth out of those lovely features, and he smiled tentatively in return. </p><p>“It irks me,” he said with another dramatic huff and I felt a chuckle in the back of my throat. </p><p>There was an obvious answer, but I didn’t want to say it. Mostly because I still didn’t really understand it myself. I’d never considered myself anything other than straight, and yet… Sherlock was undeniably attractive. And that <em> voice</em>. Gods, with a voice like that the man could turn a lamppost bent. </p><p>“Have you thought, that ah, maybe… um…”</p><p>Those eyes were burning a hole in my face, which made it harder to carry on. How to explain to the man that invited you to dinner in a fancy restaurant that he might have a crush? It made me stutter, fumbling over my words. Sherlock was leaning closer, staring at me intently. </p><p>“What? What is it?”</p><p>I took a long, steadying breath, before releasing it slowly. </p><p>“Have you thought that, maybe, you could ah… be attracted to me?”</p><p>Sherlock seemed to jolt, his eyes narrowing before they widened, flitting back and forth over my face. His lips parted and he tilted his head. I was squirming under his eyes, which gave me that fight or flight urge again. </p><p>“Stop staring at me,” I muttered. </p><p>Sherlock closed his mouth, his lips pursed and the fire of determination igniting in his eyes. </p><p>“How would I know?”</p><p>I made some kind of scoffing sigh, raising my hands. </p><p>“I don’t know! Have you never had a crush before?”</p><p>Sherlock tilted his head thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. Maybe when I was young.”</p><p>My eyes widened as I steadied my breath. Talk about overwhelming. Was Sherlock emotionally broken? Missing? Was he a psychopath? A sociopath? My thoughts ran rampant and my heart kick started an uneasy rhythm. I don’t quite know what spooked me so much, but it must have been obvious. Sherlock’s freezing hand was on mine again, and I looked at the table where they sat. </p><p>“You looked, ah, odd,” he explained, although those eyes didn’t leave my face. I swallowed thickly, breathing hard through my nose as I studied the hand on mine. I didn’t know why Sherlock’s hand was so cold, but it wasn’t as shocking this time. It was actually quite refreshing on my clammy palms. </p><p>“So what happens, when you have a crush? How do you proceed?” asked the demon, and I had to search his face for a full minute before I realised he was being serious. </p><p>“Um… you go on dates, get to know each other and see if you’re compatible.” </p><p>“Right. Like now?” He smiled brightly, and both our eyes turned to the little candle flickering happily in the middle of the table. I couldn't stop a giggle, the sound trilling again. </p><p>“How is someone a thousand years old, and yet doesn’t know when they fancy someone?”</p><p>Sherlock at least had the sense to look a little sheepish, but there was an edge to his smirk. A little flicker of playfulness. </p><p>“Because they don’t interact with anyone they don't need to and finds that pretty much everyone they meet is predictable and stupid?”</p><p>“But not me?”</p><p>“No… strange, isn’t it? If I was a lesser demon, I would probably have decided that you were my Destined.” Sherlock laughed, clearly tickled pink by the idea. “But as I am, I know that predetermined partners are just a load of trollop.”</p><p>I shrugged, letting my hand slip from under Sherlock’s and covering the move by picking up my glass. </p><p>“I dunno. Could be some truth to it.”</p><p>Sherlock huffed out an unimpressed breath. To be fair, I was still dubious myself although I was warming to the idea after seeing Nat and Suki. But according to them, it had been instantaneous. Like a lightning bolt in their chest, there had been absolutely no doubt. </p><p>Well I was full of doubt - doubt that Sherlock was completely sane, and doubt that <em> I </em>was sane. Sure, I was attracted to him. Even his weirdness was strangely endearing, but that was probably it. A crush. </p><p>I opened my mouth to change the subject, deciding to edge away from the Destined topic when a tinny little tune cut in. Sherlock reached into his coat and pulled out his phone, swiping the bottom and putting it to his ear. </p><p>“Yes. Where? … Alright. On my way.”</p><p>Sherlock ended the call and looked like he was about to move when he stopped, realising I was still there. I gave him a small smile. </p><p>“John-”</p><p>“It’s fine-”</p><p>We both snapped our mouths shut and I chuckled awkwardly. </p><p>“It’s fine if you have to go. I’ve seen enough true crime shows to know that it never sleeps.”</p><p>Sherlock regarded me curiously for a few moments, but still didn’t move. </p><p>“You’re a doctor.”</p><p>“Well not in the human sense, but yeah I guess.”</p><p>“So you’ve seen death?”</p><p>I frowned. “Yes…”</p><p>“And you’re a soldier.”</p><p>I tensed a little, clearing my throat. </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“So you’ve seen battle. Some pretty gruesome things I imagine.”</p><p>My mind pinged and I looked up at the demon in awe. My whole body was tense to move and my stomach was doing backflips, but I realised that it wasn’t in shock or dread. It was in <em> anticipation. </em></p><p>“Yep, some horrible stuff.”</p><p>Sherlock’s smirk was utterly devilish and just a little dangerous. </p><p>“Wanna see some more?”</p><p>“Gods, yes.”</p><p>He gestured to the door and I was up. I grabbed my jacket and fell into step behind Sherlock’s coattails, pointedly ignoring the fact that we were walking into the complete unknown. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Blood Demons (Sanguidaemonis)</p><p>Considered the dominant Daemonaris race, Blood Demons are very traditional and consider themselves superior in both power and intelligence. They have a masterful control over emotions and willpower of others, as well as fighting strength and speed. Blood is used to heighten their powers, however they do not need it to survive once they reach their Immortality.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Something Stirring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for the comments and the kudos, I really appreciate it. And I appreciate all the feedback as well. I understand that some of the story is confusing, and some of it doesn't quite make sense. But it will, as it's revealed. I don't want to give away some of the main factors until the time is right in the story, so please stop asking me why John is a Fae and Sherlock isn't. <br/>There is a point. I've always had a point. <br/>Thanks for sticking by me. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>Excerpt from '</b>
    <b>The Book of Immortality' </b>
    <b>by No One</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>Chapter Thirty - Death</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It is a misconceived notion that ‘Immortal’ means ‘cannot die’. This is only partially true. In good health, an Immortal will never die of natural causes, nor will they age. They will remain frozen in time from the day they reach their Immortal Maturity. They can be injured, but these injuries are quick to heal. It is even possible for them to regrow limbs. However, Immortals can die. Should their heads be removed from the body, their brains are unable to regenerate, and thus they will perish. If they are burned at high temperatures, they are unable to regenerate fast enough and they will die. Some Immortals can only perish when certain organs, like the heart, are removed from their body. Some cannot regenerate heat and will thus freeze in extreme temperatures. It seems as though only the most drastic use of dismemberment or temperature can cause an Immortal to perish.  </span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The taxi ride to our unknown location was surprisingly… normal. I'd thought at first it might end up being awkward, mostly because it was a lull in the excitement. But I found that I was eerily calm, and I felt Sherlock's eyes on me now and then. The one time that I did turn my head, he didn't look away. Instead he gave me an odd, almost surprised smile as though seeing me still here was unfathomable. I just smiled back, turning to watch the bright city lights as they blurred along the pavement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When we finally pulled to a stop, my eyes were drawn to the tall, half finished building. We were somewhere on the outskirts of the main city, I knew that much, although after that I was lost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>People in luminescent jackets were milling about the outside of the building, what looked like would be some kind of courtyard-esc entrance. Although at the moment it was all dug up concrete and a gaping hole where the front entrance should be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock handed the driver a note and climbed out, leaving me to take the change and follow suit. I offered the coins to Sherlock as I caught up to him, but his eyes were already latched onto the scene before us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We reached a police barrier made of bright tape tied between two police cars, which was where Sherlock stopped so suddenly that I nearly crashed into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright?" I asked, moving to his side and looking up at him. His brows were drawn but his eyes were wide, and when he turned to regard me there was a hesitancy about him that made me bristle. I felt my senses heighten, my ears alert and eyes wide as I scanned the scene. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"John, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful to you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My shoulders tensed as I looked back at the demon. It was a bit bloody late now, wasn’t it? I'd just followed this man to who knew where and to face gods know what. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right…?" I said slowly, watching as Sherlock’s eyes flickered back and forth. He offered me an uneasy smile, but it did nothing to sway my anxiety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I’ve lead you to believe that I’m a Detective, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I took a sharp breath, just as Sherlock’s attention was drawn to the figure sauntering towards us. The woman was tall and slender, her dark curls haloing her ebony skin, and she was watching the two of us with sharp eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock?” I asked, although he seemed focused on the woman. As she drew nearer, her pretty features were marred with an ugly sneer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t surprise me that as soon as there’s a body, the Freak’s sniffing around. Who’s your friend, Freak?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John narrowed his eyes, his spine straightening. Sherlock hadn’t said one word and yet this woman was looking at him like he’d just crawled up from the sewers. Sherlock regarded the woman with an almost bored expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was invited,” he said simply, ducking under the tape before holding it up for me. Being smaller in height, I was able to get under easily. The woman was still scowling at Sherlock, but her expression softened when she looked at me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t go following this one,” she drawled, and I narrowed my eyes at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my choice, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow, lifting the radio in her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, Freak’s here. And looks like he’s got a lapdog with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bristled, feeling the stirring of something in the pit of my gut. The woman exhumed disgust and it really struck a chord with me. Sherlock rolled his eyes before he grabbed my arm, tugging me forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful of him!” called the woman, regarding me with a twisted kind of pity. I frowned but continued following Sherlock. As we walked into the building, another man was suddenly in our way. And from the look he was giving the demon, he clearly didn’t like him either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t need you here,” sneered the man, his jagged features too big for the size of his head, and his beady little eyes poking out from behind his crooked nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you do,” said Sherlock, his voice dripping with disdain. “Which is why I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other man flapped his thin lips, turning to follow us as we continued into the building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t just barge in here! There’s protocol and regulations, and you’re not even wearing gloves-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anderson,” snapped Sherlock, turning on his heel to face the other. This Anderson yelped as he nearly collided with Sherlock’s taller frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wife away again?” asked the demon, although his voice brokered nothing of a polite conversation. Anderson scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t pretend like someone didn’t tell you that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I know because you’re wearing men’s deodorant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anderson curled his lip, confused, and even I looked over at Sherlock curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, of course I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it’s the same one Detective Donovan is wearing. Funny, that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I noticed the way Anderson started, before he looked behind him at the snarky woman who was still hovering behind us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them shared a look which left no doubt that Sherlock’s insinuation was spot on. I cleared my throat to hide my smile, and I noticed those bright greeny-blue eyes flash with humour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s just - that’s not-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She must have spent the night scrubbing your floors,” said Sherlock innocently, his eyes looking back at Donovan before regarding the little man in front of him. “Judging by the state of her knees.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I felt the atmosphere tense and I had to bite my lip from laughing out loud. Sherlock turned in a flurry of his coat, nodding at me to follow. I did so, smirking at the still gaping couple before turning to Sherlock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We walked briskly towards what seemed to be the main crime scene. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, not a detective?” I asked, garnering that the demon wasn’t particularly welcome here, even though he’d apparently been invited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Consulting Detective,” he clarified, turning to me. Those eyes were brimming with something - something I didn’t understand yet, but I just nodded. In for a penny, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock,” said a sudden voice and we seemed to come to the main crime scene. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, it couldn't have been anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the middle of the empty room was what I could only really describe as a pyre, complete with mounds of ash at the bottom of a large pole. Then I saw the crisp, burnt out shell of what was once a person against the pole, their arms clearly bound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Burnt at the stake?” I muttered, before I zoned back into what Sherlock was saying to the unfamiliar man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Found this morning by some kids,” said the man, looking over at the scene with a hint of pity in his eyes. He didn’t seem as unapproachable as the other two, and when he looked at Sherlock, he was only marginally uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh hi,” said the man, seeming to notice me. He offered a hand, which I shook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Detective Inspector Lestrade,” he said with a small smile, although his attention was still on the scene in front of us. Sherlock’s eyes were darting back and forth over the crime scene, his brows knitted in concentration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friend of yours?” asked Lestrade and Sherlock didn’t look at him as he replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Lestrade looked at me and I shifted a little, trying not to squirm under the other’s surprised eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock moved forward and I hovered there, watching as the demon started to examine the scene. He leaned forward and back, crouching and standing. It was something to behold. The way Sherlock was completely enraptured with what he was looking at, and I found myself watching him move more than what he was actually doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know Sherlock, err…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turned back to Lestrade, noting the way he seemed to move from foot to foot, clearly unsure what to do with the new information. I offered him a tight-lipped smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you two…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Date,” I clarified, my shoulders tense under the man’s scrutiny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t know why it was so awkward, but when Sherlock turned to me and waved me over, I practically jumped at the chance to get away from the DI. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I wondered closer, I couldn't help but study the body and surrounding pyre. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think, Doctor?” asked Sherlock, stepping back and watching me expectantly. I curled my lip, giving the demon a curious look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you, obviously. What do you see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… a body?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock rolled his eyes, stepping a little closer to me. I swallowed thickly, glancing around to see pretty much every single officer at the scene watching us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be dense, John. What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I blew a breath through my lips before I turned back to the scene, bracing myself and squaring my shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the eyes on me, I leaned down in front of the ash pile at the bottom of the stake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Female,” I said idly, noticing the curve of the pelvis. It was hard to make out much detail from the charred remains, but there were a few patches of skin that didn’t seem as burned as the rest. I reached backwards, my eyes following the edge of the body. Sherlock put a pair of gloves in my hand and I pulled one on, moving a flap of clothing to see the… almost perfect skin underneath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of it didn’t catch…” I mumbled, scooting closer. I noticed a gaping gash around the trachea, and it seemed to have scraped the bone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Throat cut,” I said, pulling the wound a little. “Pre-death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I took a long breath, noting the faint whiff of something in the air. Frowning, I leaned closer to the body. Aside from the acrid smell of charred skin and the smokey remnants of burnt wood, there was an undertone of… something else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I closed my eyes, focusing my senses, letting them wonder and delve into that one scent. It took a moment, but my eyes snapped open and I stepped back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I collided with Sherlock, who steadied me before he drew his hands away, clearly surprised with himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Witch,” I said, taking in the scene as a whole. “She was a witch. Burned… at the stake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s smile was bright and his eyes were beaming with something akin to pride. Whatever I’d done, it had impressed him, and I felt a little trill of pride catch in my throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent, John. So we have a Witch, burned at the stake. Clearly a statement, considering her throat was cut beforehand. Although that wouldn’t have killed her, it would have merely stunned her while she healed. Alive while she was set alight, as her skin was trying to heal itself even as it burned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s not easy to kill an Immortal,” I said, lowering my voice as I noticed Lestrade striding back towards us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” agreed Sherlock, unaware of the human hovering. “The general way to kill an Immortal is either decapitation, dismemberment, or burning. So whoever did this knew how to kill an Immortal, even though they cut her throat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Sherlock,” I mumbled, nodding at Lestrade. Sherlock didn’t even look, his eyes searching the scene. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lestrade,” he said. “This is one of ours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The DI grimaced before he nodded, looking at the scene again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figured it was. I mean someone being burned at the stake? Seemed like your kind of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes widened as I realised that this Lestrade must have known, but Sherlock’s nod confirmed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Send the body to Bart’s,” announced Sherlock, to which Lestrade frowned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought we sent your… kind to London Royal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock scoffed. “That is not ‘my kind’. She was a Witch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lestrade got a kind of faraway look in his eyes, and his lips parted as though he was a little dazed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, course… witch…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He might have known about Immortals, but he was clearly still coming to terms with it. I shifted a little, which drew his attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So are you… like him?” he asked, nodding at Sherlock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shook my head, smiling tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not quite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John is a Fae,” said Sherlock, his attention on his phone. He was tapping furiously on it again, and I briefly wondered what the hell he did on there so intently. Lestrade turned his head to me, cocking it to the side as he regarded me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fae? Like fairies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bristled, but took a steadying breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a Fairy,” I said, for some reason feeling the word curling in my gut. My spine was straight and my shoulders tense, but Lestrade didn’t seem to notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But don’t fairies have like… wings? Throwing flowers and stuff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be fair, he didn’t seem like he was taking the piss. He seemed genuinely curious, but fuck it all if it didn’t rile me up. I set the man with a hard look and he at least had the decency to squirm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a fairy,” I ground out. “Fae.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lestrade’s eyes were wide, but they were still looking behind me as if he expected me to sprout wings and start dancing on top of fucking toadstools. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I could feel it. At the back of my throat. A little bubble beginning to grind against my sternum. I tried to suppress it, I really did, but my instincts were latching on to my annoyance, spurred on by the arrogant twats we met when we came in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My chest rumbled, the growl deep and animalistic. It was a warning, nothing more, and I clamped down on it the moment I felt it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lestrade’s eyes widened and he quickly made himself scarce, while Sherlock spun his head around so quickly that I flinched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You growled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I ground my jaw and looked away, a sliver of panic swelling in my chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No I didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fae don’t growl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turned on my heel and started forward, marching away from the crime scene as quickly as I could without drawing any more attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you growl?” asked Sherlock, effortlessly matching my stride, and I swallowed hard. I just about reached the tape before the demon grabbed my arm. I turned on him, another warning growl bubbling in my throat. He didn’t let go, instead narrowing his eyes at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My chest was heaving as I tried to control my breathing, but Sherlock’s eyes were flickering over me, searching. They went wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not a Fae.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I looked into his eyes, standing my ground as I resisted the urge to bare my teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes I am,” I snapped, but he didn’t let me go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you’re a half-breed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I tore my arm from Sherlock’s grasp, glancing around as I noticed that snarky detective from before heading towards us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock reached out for me again but I danced away from him, stepping under the tape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lover’s tiff?” asked Donovan sarcastically, but I didn’t hear what Sherlock said in return. I kept moving, half-running, as my blinding panic spurred me on. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The door behind me closed harder than I intended and I winced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My breath was coming in spluttering wheezes, and I practically dropped to the floor before I hauled myself onto the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Running had helped to wear me out, but my chest was still fluttering with panic. The thing inside me had woken, stirring against my ribcage and heightening my senses for signs of danger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one thing for Sherlock to figure out that I was Elvanae, but another for him to realise… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I rubbed my face, taking deliberate breaths until the creature inside me stilled and I was able to release some of the tension. I sat myself up, tugging off my jumper and kicking my shoes off against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes instantly went to the marks along my forearm, studying them. They were still a dark crimson against my skin. I suppose they wouldn’t react considering I hadn’t actually told Sherlock anything. He’d figured it out on his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing that helped, but also set off a new kind of worry. Sherlock knew too much. I had no idea whether or not I could trust him, even if I wanted to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My phone buzzed in my pocket but I ignored it in favour of putting on the kettle. Once I had a calming brew, I sank down into the chair by my desk and pulled out my phone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>5 New Messages</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I swallowed thickly, setting my mug down before I opened them. One from Nat, one from Suki, and three from Sherlock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nat - 19:07</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hope it’s going well. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do ;-)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Suki - 20:23</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Since we haven’t got the emergency call, I’ll assume it’s going well! Tell me all about it tomorrow! xxx</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My thumb hovered over the messages from Sherlock. Luckily they were SMS rather than internet messages. He shouldn’t be able to see if I read them or not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You didn’t have to leave. -SH</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We should probably talk. -SH</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a longer delay from the first two to the last one, and it made me feel like a bit of a dick for just taking off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I enjoyed myself tonight. You keep surprising me, John. -SH</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chewing the inside of my lip, I set my phone down so I didn't apologise. Not that I wouldn't, but I was a bit too frazzled to think about it right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nevermind the fact that I ended up at a crime scene tonight. My thoughts trailed back to the witch and my heart leapt into my throat. I checked my phone and sent Suki a quick message, even though I knew it couldn't be her. The ash had been cold at the scene, and it would have had to burn hot to destroy an Immortal body. So it would have still had some residue heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I shucked my clothes, my phone pinged and Suki said goodnight, and that she was looking forward to getting all the details from me tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I climbed into bed, my head whirring with everything that had happened tonight, and just as I thought that I would never get to sleep - a wave of exhaustion swept through me, making me groan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If my quickly retreating mind could think, I would have assumed it must have been magic. But like a lightswitch, my brain clicked off and I was out. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>My dreams were filled with colours and snippets of memories. The faces were swimming and shifting, from people I knew in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cathair</span>
  </em>
  <span> back to ones I had met in London. Nat and Suki merged and shifted until they became Molly, and as she smiled she melted, phasing into Freya. My old friend smiled at me, her blue eyes soft and caring. But as her features started to crumble away, and I reached out for her, she screamed. I shied away from the sound, hiding back into a misty corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As my dream darkened, the skies clapping with thunder, something deep and soothing began to coo at me, luring me out of my nightmare and back into the bright swirling colours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s face was sharp and focused, absolutely perfect in the madness of my mind. He was smiling at me, and it was open and free. He looked young, his curls framing his face. Even though his eyes were pure obsidian, there was still a depth to them. He wrapped himself around me, his voice murmuring and sending vibrations through my whole body. Everything seemed to heat up, the sky turning a burned red and pulsing with a bright orange. His breath was hot against my ear, even though the hands moving over my hips were ice cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shuddered and gasped, allowing myself to be touched by him because somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn’t real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet as I felt his teeth grazing my neck, I started to fade from the dream, even though the warmth was lingering in the pit of my stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I groaned as I twisted around in the sheets, my hands moving of their own accord as my mind fought to shake off the dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I gasped as I felt my hand grab my aching erection, rubbing up and down the length. It was hazy, still almost dream-like, and I started to chase the orgasm that was looming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I choked out a sound as I came hard, launching myself into full consciousness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I winced, blinking against the pale morning light before I grimaced at the sticky warmth coating my fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. That was… different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bundled up my sheets and jumped into the shower, trying my damndest to shake off the dream that just wouldn’t let up. I remembered it clearly - well I remembered Sherlock clearly, and it only made me flush with embarrassment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Known the man three days and I was already having sexy dreams about him. I scoffed at myself as I flicked on the kettle, rubbing my heavy eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it had been… what? Three years since I’d had sex? Gods, that was a pretty long time. But not like I had much choice in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cathair</span>
  </em>
  <span>. People either looked at me like I was a monster or they just didn’t look at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sighed, padding back to my bed as the kettle boiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I had two messages from Suki, even though it was half seven in the morning. I rolled my eyes, replying to her before going back to my kitchenette and setting up another mug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knocked on my door not two minutes later, and I smiled as I handed her a fresh brew. She grinned at me, her wild curls sticking up in all directions. She was in fluffy </span>
  <em>
    <span>Friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> pyjamas, and had a pair of bunny slippers on. I rolled my eyes before I sat back on my bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me all about it!” she gushed, sipping her drink before she settled on the bed next to me. If she noticed that my bed was stripped, she didn’t say anything. She tucked her legs underneath her before watching me expectantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I licked my lower lip before I started on what happened last night. I included everything, besides the fact that I was an Elvanae. I also lied about my quick retreat, telling her that I had gotten pissed off with Lestrade and spooked by the crime scene. Not entirely untrue, but she looked like she believed me anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I finished, I checked the time on my phone. I had leave for work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he seems…” Suki chewed her lip as she turned thoughtful. “Different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. That he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I got up and went into the bathroom, grabbing my toothbrush and starting to clean my teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think?” called Suki, and I wandered back into the room, brush in mouth. I shrugged. Suki gave me a small smile before she set her mug in the kitchen. I finished my teeth and grabbed my shoes. Suki leaned against the wall as I finished getting ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I think you like him,” she announced and I scoffed, grabbing my jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, the guy that takes his date to a crime scene?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suki gave me a teasing smirk and I shifted a little under her knowing eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. I think he’s exciting and probably dangerous. And I think you love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I laughed, but it was a nervous sound. I shooed the little witch from my flat and locked the door, swooping down to press a kiss on her cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re terrible and I’m going to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckled, pushing me towards the front door. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turning to me just before I left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chinese tonight?” she called and I nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good!”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“John! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glanced up from my paperwork, smiling as Molly pushed her way further into the storage room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” she asked, looking around the cramped little space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>OK so I probably looked like an idiot, sitting in a storage cupboard. But it had a desk in it, and a lamp, and I was doing my work so…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Working.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you in the cleaning cupboard? It stinks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at the corner where mops and chemicals were stored. I let out a long breath, setting my pen down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… wanted somewhere quiet for a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes went from mild annoyance to concern in a flash, and she stepped forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted a bit of quiet while I worked on these.” I lifted the papers to support my point, and Molly frowned. She looked me over for a moment, before she took my words as truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OK well I’ll need your help in about an hour or so. I’ve just got a body in and it’s charred to bits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My heart jumped into my throat but I nodded, casting my eyes at the papers. She left after another long moment and I let out a hard rush of air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So I wasn’t exactly hiding. Well, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> hiding, but that was besides the point. The point was that if the body had arrived, then Sherlock was undoubtedly not far behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There would be no avoiding him, then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hadn’t text him back, mostly because it was hard to think of him without the rush of heat I had felt in my dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shuddered at the memory, feeling warmth licking up my stomach and chest. I rubbed my face furiously, but the words on the page were blurring together and I knew there would be no concentrating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was happening to me? Was it because it had been so long since I’d had sex that I was desperate for some attention? Sherlock was attractive and I guessed he was interested in me? It seemed like it, but was it just curiosity or…? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My pen hovered over the page and I ground my teeth. This was ridiculous. I shoved the papers away and flopped back in my chair, letting my head fall back. My eyes fluttered closed and I tried to clear my thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fucking Christ!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>My whole body jolted upright, the papers flying into the air as I spun and pressed myself up against the far wall. My heart hammered in my chest as I could feel the stirring in my stomach and judging by the wide-eyed look on Sherlock’s face, my eyes had turned gold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swallowed thickly, my eyes narrowing even though Sherlock was still watching me intensely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something on his face made me want to crouch defensively, but also lean into him? The contrast in emotions was giving me a headache, and as I opened my mouth, Sherlock took a few steps forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sucked in a shocked breath as his body crowded me, although we weren’t touching. I pressed myself hard against the wall, looking upwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” I breathed, noticing that Sherlock’s eyes had gone completely black and he was watching me, his lips slightly parted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was charged, the air heavy and tense. It was harder to breathe, and I didn’t know whether it was from our proximity or the way we were staring at each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John.” A shudder ran through my whole body at the way Sherlock’s voice dropped, the way he purred my name. I licked my lower lip, trying to wet my dry mouth, and I noticed  Sherlock’s black eyes followed my tongue intently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every muscle in my body was poised to jump, and I honestly couldn't say whether it was to jump on Sherlock to jump past him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock seemed just as conflicted. I could hear a rumbling from his chest, deeper than an animal growl, and more ethereal. It sent bolts of heat prickling across my skin, and the demon cocked his head slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s happening?” he whispered, and I started at the odd echo to his tone. Like that growl in his chest had latched onto his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” I whispered in return, my own voice uneven. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to…” Sherlock’s eyes latched onto my neck and I swallowed, noting the way his eyes flickered in time with my Adam’s apple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to what?” I managed, even though my throat felt like sandpaper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s obsidian eyes turned back to my face, just as I saw his hand moving up. I ground my jaw as one of his slender fingers gently pressed against my jaw, moving down and onto my neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shuddered again, my body seeming to ignite from that touch alone. I knew my face was flushed, because so was Sherlock’s. The demon let his finger rest over my pulse point, and he looked so unsure. So young. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was leaning closer and a little sliver of panic pierced my mind. I felt like I had no control, like I had absolutely no idea what would happen if Sherlock kissed me. And yet, I did absolutely nothing to stop him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his lips brushed mine, there was a resounding crack somewhere outside, and Sherlock spun around with inhuman speed. It made me gasp, because Sherlock was pressing back against me, pinning me to the wall and shielding me from whatever the noise was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I just about heard a squeak, and then the heavy thump of something landing on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock!” I spluttered, reaching up to push the demon away from me. Molly was on the floor, her face white as a sheet. She was out cold. I landed on my knees and pressed my fingers to her throat. Her heart was racing. She must have fainted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning to look over my shoulder, I realised why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock was standing there, but he didn’t exactly look like himself. His eyes were still black, but his features were marred by the jet black markings that haloed his face, licking over his jaw. He had his teeth bare, and thick jagged fangs protruded over his lips. But the thing that caught my attention was the black horns nestled in his curls, twisting up and across his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock blinked and frowned, looking around the room as though he’d just remembered where he was. He glanced at me, before turning to his hands. The same, swirling patterns worked over his fingers. It seemed that the marks covered him all over, and he took a step back when he realised what had happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I saw the look of horror cross his features, so I turned back to Molly. I let my hand hover over her face, closing my eyes as my palm started to glow a faint white. Images rushed into my mind, of bones and muscles and brain. I moved my palm around Molly’s head as my mind’s eye saw behind her skin. Her skull seemed intact, no bumps. No bleeding. She’d probably have a bruise but she should be fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I lay her out straight and took off my jacket, using it to prop up her head. When I turned around again, Sherlock was hovering behind me, hands in pockets and looking decidedly sheepish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” I said, sitting down on the floor with a huff. “Think we’ve broken Molly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock bit his lower lip and I was glad to see he looked like his normal self again. Although, was the other his normal self? It was hard to tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She… should recover,” muttered Sherlock, although even I could see the uncertainty in his face. I turned back to the woman just as she started to stir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guess we would find out. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I'll Figure it Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry about the delay - I've been sucked into the world of reading fanfiction - but I'm back now, yay! And oh look! The lesser-spotted Plot! <br/>All comments are appreciated and much loved!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Excerpt from </b>
  <b>
    <em>The Book of Immortality </em>
  </b>
  <b>by No One</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Chapter Thirty-Three - Half-Breeds</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A Half-Breed in the Immortal sense is a being created by two different species. It is said to have been a very unlikely outcome as most species cannot procreate with each other. However, some Half-Breeds are born but they are not regarded as an equal being. Most Immortals believe that a Half-Breed is a lesser creature, a dangerous and unknown entity and the majority of them are killed once they are discovered. Not many are alive today, and if they are, they are hidden away. Every Half-Breed is at risk, as well as the Immortal parents that created them.</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>I tried to give Molly space to breathe as she roused, her hand cupping her head as she looked around. I saw her features start to contort with panic and fleeting horror, but I was quick to lean down into her line of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Molly! Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She jumped and then frowned, her eyes slightly unfocused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John…? Where...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The petite brunette turned her head, her eyes going wide as she spotted Sherlock hovering behind us. She took a trembling breath, her hand flying up to grab my arm. But to her credit, she didn’t bolt. Instead she stared at Sherlock intently, as though she expected horns to sprout from his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock kept his expression concerned, and I wasn’t sure whether it was because he genuinely worried that she was okay, or whether she would realise what she had seen was true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Molly took a sudden breath, turning back to me. I had never seen such intensity in her eyes, but I met them with my own quiet concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John, I saw-” Molly inhaled as she snapped her mouth shut, her eyes flickering to Sherlock again. I was glad that he flinched a little under her eyes. He could have caused her to really hurt herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fainted, Molly. You okay?” I asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I think I need to go home,” she said quietly, her brows knitted tightly in confusion but when she looked at Sherlock, there was a sliver of doubt in her gentle brown eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I think you do. You don’t have a concussion, but it was still quite a fall,” I said, examining the whites of her eyes. I knew she didn’t because I’d seen her skull and brain, but I couldn't exactly tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t… sleep well,” she muttered as I took her arm and slowly helped her up. She kept looking at Sherlock as though she expected him to be different, and I sent the demon my own glare when she wasn’t looking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was lucky she was confused, because I didn’t think she could handle the truth. Not like that, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, I’ll get you a taxi,” I said softly, putting my arm over her shoulder and guiding her steadily through the morgue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I made sure she was safe in a cab before I heaved out a long breath and let myself think about what just happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My skin still tingled from where Sherlock’s finger had touched me, and it sent residue chills down my spine. I swallowed thickly, turning to go back inside when I nearly smacked straight into the demon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my Gods,” I snapped, straightening myself. “Stop doing that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John, we need to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I huffed out a breath as I walked past the demon and back into the building. Sherlock followed me, and I didn’t know whether I wanted him to or not. Part of me was still burning, but the other was confused and a little annoyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I walked back down to the morgue, stepping into one of the autopsy rooms and gesturing for Sherlock to follow me. When he did, I made sure to put one of the metallic slabs between us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want to talk about, Sherlock?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those sharp eyes looked more grey in the harsh light, but I turned away. Best not to risk getting lost in them again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well clearly there’s more to you than you let on,” he said, his composure cool and controlled. As though nothing had happened. I could deal with that. I think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve known each other for four days. There’s going to be loads you don’t know about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corner of Sherlock’s lip quirked and I was instantly reminded of the dissection on our meeting in the labs. I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest and lifting my chin. It was a defensive stance, and one the demon clearly understood considering he stood a little straighter even though his hands stayed by his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop being coy, John. Tell me what you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I raised an eyebrow. The man had a commanding way about him, yes, but no way in hell would I just comply with him. There was a flutter of surprise in his eyes. Clearly he wasn’t used to being disobeyed very often. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t,” I said bluntly, shrugging my shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock scoffed. “I won’t tell anyone. I thought we had established this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I rolled my eyes, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. I wouldn’t admit it, but… I did trust him. Fucking bizarre, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John.” Was… was that a growl? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I chewed the inside of my lip before I let out a huff of frustration. With that, I shook off my white coat and then my jumper, noticing how Sherlock’s bright eyes seemed to follow my every movement. I had to ignore it because, well… he distracted me. Finally I rolled up the sleeve of my shirt, revealing my arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I held it out over the table so that the light shone directly onto the crimson markings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s face suddenly centered on the markings, his whole attention on them. He grabbed my arm and pulled it closer, examining it, and I found that I didn’t flinch this time despite the cold of his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this?” he asked, pulling something from his pocket before flipping it open. I frowned when I saw the mini magnifying glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the reason I can’t tell you. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>physically</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t tell you, sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock snapped his eyes up and I moved to step back. The demon was leaning so far over the table that he might as well have been lying on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I cleared my throat to keep my attention on the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does it prevent you from saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It stops me telling you what I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock cocked his head slightly. “But you told me you were Elvanae.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” I said, lowering my head a little. “No you figured that out on your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon’s eyes turned thoughtful for a brief moment, as if he was recalling, before he nodded sharply and let my arm go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stepped away, shaking my sleeve back down. I left my jumper off because everything just felt too hot, but I did shrug back into my white coat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… old magic. Very old magic. Older than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shrugged my shoulders, facing the other before putting my hands behind my back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I get back to work now? Since your little stunt left me on my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock had his body turned away from me, but he still glanced over. His features froze for a moment, his lips slightly parted. I had to fight to keep myself from squirming under those eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon was watching me, his eyes darting back and forth, calculating. His expression never changed, but somehow I could see humour in his eyes, before he stepped back and made a grand gesture with his hand for me to pass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I clucked my tongue before I marched forward, careful to keep a side-eye on the demon as I did. There was something in his face… something mischievous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t move as I walked past him, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>swore</span>
  </em>
  <span> I saw him smirk. I hummed in the back of my throat before going back into the office. But the demon followed me, raising an eyebrow as I watched him suspiciously.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to drown out the low hum of Sherlock’s voice as he prattled on and on and </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a high chance you could be a mixture of Elvanae and Elafae, although that wouldn’t explain the change in your eye colour. There’s… seventy different sub-species that have the ability to change their eye colour although only a few specifically turn golden. Do your eyes change to other colours? If that’s the case-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock, oh my gods will you </span>
  <em>
    <span>shutthefuckup</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon pulled his head back, his mouth snapping closed with an audible </span>
  <em>
    <span>clack</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I huffed out a long breath, trying to rein in my temper. But a man could only take so much. The demon had been prattling on for fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He hadn’t left my side since this morning, and had kept going on about what I could be. I didn’t know whether he was deliberately trying to piss me off or whether he was just being dense, but by the time four o’clock rolled around - I was done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon was giving me big eyes, like a kicked puppy, but I just scoffed and got to my feet. I couldn't take any more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going home,” I announced to anyone in the vicinity, before I stormed to my locker. Although, to my horror, I heard the patter of feet close behind me. Grinding my teeth and praying to the gods for strength, I opened my locker and got my shit. I chucked my coat inside and slammed it closed. Sherlock still hadn’t spoken, but he was watching me with a strangely intense stare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” I snapped, shrugging my canvas jacket on over my shirt. The demon frowned, but he didn’t leave. Instead he leaned against the locker and… studied me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You anger easily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I opened my mouth and gaped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh and you prattling on for fucking hours has got nothing to do with it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock shrugged and I scoffed before starting forward. I stopped when I heard him move to follow, spinning on my heels and making the demon reel back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed surprised, which would have made me laugh if I wasn’t so fucking ticked off. “Uh…” he mumbled, swiping his tongue over his lower lip. My eyes followed the movement instinctively, watching the pink tongue leave a trail of saliva of soft pink lips. I wrenched my eyes away, realising that Sherlock had seen me watching. I narrowed my eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock you’re not following me home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth, but I raised my hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope. I’m going to my house, and you’re going to yours. End of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t give him a chance to respond, instead turning on my heel and starting through the building. To my relief, there were no footsteps behind me this time. I did hear a shrill chime of someone’s phone but I ignored it. I clocked out and left the building, taking in a large gulp of fresh air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The autumn was coming over the city quickly, dropping the temperature and casting the sky grey. It wouldn’t be long before it started getting dark earlier. I sniffed, doing up the front of my jacket and cursing myself for not picking up my jumper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I moved into the street, glancing up at the Underground sign a few feet away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turned my head, my eyes bulging, but yep. There was Sherlock, coming towards me. As he reached me, a growl was already leaving my throat and it made the demon snap his eyes at me. I could have sworn his eyes flickered black for half a second, but it was the light, surely?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” I snapped, my lip trying to curl over my teeth. I clamped it down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t bare your teeth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I told myself. The last thing I needed was to add more fuel to Sherlock’s curious fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lestrade just called me,” said Sherlock, his body relaxing and his face taking on a calmer, more detached edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…” I said slowly, frowning as I wracked my brain for where I knew that name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s another one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, John. Do you… want to come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock sighed heavily. “I do so hate repetition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I snapped my mouth closed before I repeated the word ‘repetition’. Although that was good to know if Sherlock started to get on my nerves again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you on about?” I said after another moment, shaking my head and scrunching my eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock pursed his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Detective Inspector Lestrade has just been called to another murder. He said, and I quote; ‘It’s another one of yours’. So I’m assuming it’s another dead Immortal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyebrows rose and I found myself wondering who was murdering us and why. Sherlock smirked at me, knowing he’d peaked my morbid curiosity. I huffed out a breath before I gestured for Sherlock to lead the way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What else could I do? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was intrigued. It was something new, something… exciting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that I let my face betray my thoughts. Although the slight quirk in Sherlock’s lip seemed far too knowing. The demon flagged down a taxi and we climbed inside. There was an almost tense silence about us as my leg jiggled up and down, betraying my impatience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock was tapping away on his phone and I frowned, turning to the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you find anything else on the witch?” I asked, realising that I hadn’t seen the body since the crime scene. It was in the lab and I was supposed to check it out, but Sherlock… well, he’d interrupted me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said the demon without looking up. “Nothing of note. Anything on her body was destroyed by the fire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded, turning back to the window and watching London as it flew by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We arrived at the end of a crumbling driveway, with a bedraggled and decaying house sitting atop a small incline. It was hard to see anything more through the mass of police milling about the place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of us climbed out after the demon paid the driver, and I narrowed my eyes as I spotted the detective from before. Donovan, was it? She seemed to be in control of the front gates, and she turned to us as we approached. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock seemed to have reached the end of his patience with her and my eyes widened as the demon bore his teeth. There weren’t any fangs, but it was such a shocking and feral display that Donovan’s face dropped. I stepped closer to Sherlock as we walked past and into the building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had long been abandoned, the walls in pieces and debris spread haphazardly about the floor. There was graffiti all about the place, and the rusty, acrid smell of stale piss in the air. I scrunched up my nose, noticing the stray needles and empty beer cans scattered in the corners. Some kind of drug den, although there were only police around at the moment. We walked through to where the mass was more concentrated, as well a few people in white suits and masks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lestrade was talking to someone else in a suit, but he looked up as we approached. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better not have called me here for a junkie,” snapped Sherlock without so much as a hello. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I frowned and nudged the demon, who threw me a curious glance before Lestrade sighed heavily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I’d call you for that?” asked the DI. He looked tired, with dark bags under his eyes and his suit less than neat. His tie was lose and he looked quite bedraggled. Sherlock was watching the DI with an unimpressed pout before Lestrade sighed heavily. He swept out one arm, gesturing to the back of the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I followed Sherlock, stepping in line with the DI. Lestrade seemed distracted, but I didn’t pry. It could have been a number of things, and I didn’t really know the man. Still, he had to deal with Sherlock so I kind of felt for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We stepped from the foyer and into the back room. It looked like it was some kind of dining hall, but it was hard to tell with the state it was in. There was similar debris, as well as cans and needles, but I barely noticed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead my eyes were fixed in the center of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The floor had been swept clean around some kind of pedestal. It was made of stone and intricately carved, but it definitely didn’t belong here. On top of the pedestal was a dark wooden box, all shiny and pristine. As I stepped closer though, I realised that it wasn’t a box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a coffin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swallowed thickly, my steps faltering, even though Sherlock had ploughed on ahead. He was already looking inside, but part of me didn’t want to know. Yet of course I walked forward and peered inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lining was plush red velvet, with fluffy white material haloing a still figure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man was in an impeccable dress suit, with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked perfect, almost untouched. I would have thought he’d been robbed from a funeral home if it wasn’t for the thick piece of wood jutting from his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes looked at the positioning. The wood was impaled in his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My features contorted in confusion and I leaned closer. The man had some kind of black roseary beads wound around one hand with a cross resting on his stomach. No one spoke - well nothing I heard anyway - as we all took in the scene. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could have been some kind of… joke, I guess? The man looked to be in his late twenties his features square and masculine. He had short, dark hair and pale skin. Too pale. Like he hadn’t seen sunlight in years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It clicked just as Sherlock spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vampyre.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I let out a snort, drawing both Sherlock and the DI’s attention. Surprised at myself, I cleared my throat before I continued to look the corpse over. There was nothing that gave him away as an Immortal, but it was weird. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stake to the heart,” said Sherlock, leaning over the coffin and pulling out his portable magnifying glass. I watched as the demon pulled down the collar of the man’s shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking hell,” I muttered, wincing at the harsh, jagged gash that wound around the man’s neck. Sherlock’s expression didn’t change, even as he put his finger to the man’s chin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he pushed upwards, and the gash opened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I made a disgusted grunt as the head basically came apart from the neck. Lestrade made a similar noise, but the DI turned away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s eyes fluttered to me, and despite my grimace, I leaned closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Corterised,” I murmured, looking at the wound. The head and neck had been corterised after they had been… seperated. I could see the charred skin, as well at the end of the blood vessels that had been burned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would it be corterised?” I asked, mostly to myself, but Sherlock answered for me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it would reattach,” he said, moving his finger from the chin and letting the head press back against the neck. I shuddered, moving to step back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when something caught my eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I frowned, pinching the edge of the man’s collar again. I pulled it up on the body, revealing a little of the man’s upper chest. There was something underneath. It wasn’t a tattoo because it was raised. I would have assumed it was a necklace if I could see a chain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s eyes followed mine, and I knew he saw it too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I watched as the Detective glanced around the room. No one was paying us much mind. Lestrade was off to the side, now talking into his mobile. I turned back to Sherlock, realising what he was doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” I said quietly, but Sherlock didn’t even look at me as he loosened the man’s tie. He flicked open a few buttons, pulling the white shirt aside to reveal what the bump had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock, you’re contaminting the - is that a jewel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Embedded in the man’s skin, just below the hollow of his throat, was a two pence-sized blood red jewel. My lips parted as I stared at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ruby?” I asked, leaning as close as I could before turning back to Sherlock. He was looking over the man’s clothing, but he still shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blood diamond.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I cocked my head, turning back to the jewel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blood diamond…?” I pushed, never having seen anything like it in my life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I looked over at Sherlock, but the demon was checking the man’s hands. I huffed out a breath, reaching over to quickly put the shirt back the way it was. Just as I moved my hands away, Lestrade was back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… one of yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A Vampyre,” said Sherlock, his voice edged with annoyance. I stepped back, looking over the man. It was so very… bizarre. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was placed here,” concluded the Detective with a snap as he folded up his magnifying glass. “Clearly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it’s a… stake to the heart thing?” asked Lestrade hesitantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock snorted, mouth opening. I could tell in the way his eyes flashed that Lestrade was about to get a mouthful. Gods only knew what had pissed off the demon so much.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” I jumped in, and the DI turned to me with a look of surprise. It was almost like he’d forgotten I was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The stake wouldn’t kill him,” I explained, feeling a little antsy under the DI’s eyes. Although he seemed more curious than anything else, so I carried on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was decapitated, which is how he died. But the wounds were corterised so they didn’t reattach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lestrade’s mouth fell open. “Re… reattach?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Lestrade,” snapped Sherlock, moving around the coffin. “Immortals can regrow limbs, heal from fatal wounds. The only way that the murderer could guarantee he stayed dead was to make sure that the head and body couldn't come back into contact. Honestly, it’s as though I’m the only one here who uses my brain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Sherlock turned on his heel and started through the room. I let out a long breath at the same time as the DI, and we both turned to each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Second date?” asked the man, a ghost of a smile on his lips. I let out a small laugh, but it sounded more like a huff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Don’t even know why I’m here, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” said Lestrade, glancing at the retreating back of the demon. “He seems to like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I rolled my eyes. “Or he likes to have someone listen to him talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lestrade let out a snicker and I smiled faintly, but I turned my attention back to the body. Why was some killing off Immortals in the ‘fairy tale’ sense? Burning a Witch at the stake, a Vampyre with a stake through the heart and in a coffin, as though he was sleeping. I frowned, feeling more than a little out of my depth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turned to see Sherlock looking at me and I sighed. Lestrade and I shared another knowing look before I jogged to catch up with the demon.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Where do you live?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I blinked, turning my head. “Hm? What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock looked decidedly unimpressed as he glanced up from his mobile. The taxi swayed gently as it moved through London traffic, the light of the day now almost completely gone. The streelights flickered over Sherlock’s face, and for a moment I was distracted by the way the light reflected from his bright eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where do you live?” repeated the demon, although it looked like it was a massive effort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Miles End.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock raised an eyebrow before he leaned forward, ordering the cabbie to head to Miles End. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I looked back out of the window. Not that I was complaining at the lift home, but still. It would be quite expensive to ride around London. It cost me ten quid once to go from St Bart’s to a street a few roads over. Not that I realised it had been so close at the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes were looking out of the window, but my attention was on what I had just seen. Someone was killing off Immortal’s, but there didn’t seem to be any reason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, some humans wouldn’t be as accepting as Lestrade, but still. There had been a lot of effort put in to place the bodies like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not just that, but it would have been expensive, too. The coffin was plush, oozing money. Was the Vampyre wealthy? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turned my head. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard me. It’s distracting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I scoffed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>so-rry</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rush of annoyance ran through me and I frowned, pursing my lips as I focused ahead. Luckily I recognised the street that we were pulling into and I let out a breath of relief. I saw Sherlock’s head snap up at the sound, but I ignored him. The taxi pulled up outside my block of flats and I thanked the cabbie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, how much?” I asked tentatively, wincing as my eyes saw the little red numbers on a small screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fourty-three fifty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sucked in a breath between my teeth, but reluctantly reached for my wallet. As I glanced inside at the pitiful little fiver, I swallowed hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something brushed past my eyes and I looked up to see Sherlock handing the driver a fifty pound note. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep the change,” he muttered before opening the door and hopping out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” I yelped, jumping out of the taxi and turning to the demon as the car pulled away. Sherlock was looking up at the building, his upper lip slightly curled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” I asked, feeling both embarrassed at my shoddy accommodations and infuriated that the man had basically invited himself over. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I need to talk to your roommates,” he said, looking at me as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My brows knitted together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roommates? I don’t have any roommates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock huffed. “The Witch and the Healer - the ones you were with in the bar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wasn’t quite convinced, but I walked over to the front door and let myself in. We climbed the stairs, Sherlock’s heavy footfalls just behind me, before we stopped in front of Nat and Suki’s door. I knocked, hearing the gentle indie music just behind the paper thin walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door was pulled open and Nat stood there, wrapped in a towel and her tattoos on full display. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John!” she said with a smile. She moved aside, about to let me in, when her eyes caught sight of Sherlock hovering behind me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I watched in fascination as Nat’s whole demeanour changed. Her eyes narrowed, the brown depths turning hard and suspicious. Her shoulders tensed and the markings over her body seemed to shudder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nat, this is… Sherlock Holmes,” I said slowly, my eyes looking over my friend. Her jaw was tense, and when she turned those eyes to me I almost jolted at the force behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never told me he was a Blood Demon,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. I opened my mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nat, is that John?” called a sweet voice from the flat. “Let him in! I’ve got the takeaway menus!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glanced behind Nat to see Suki perched happily on the sofa, but the Healer in front of me pulled the door closer to her body, sheilding the Witch from sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, what have I missed?” I asked, feeling like something was about to go down. I turned to Sherlock, who was surprisingly quiet, before back to Nat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” said the demon slowly. I watched, my mouth damn near smacking the floor as Sherlock bowed his head. He raised his hand up with his body still angled down, baring his wrist at Natalie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Healer stiffened, her eyes never leaving the demon. My mouth opened and closed. Something felt very… old. Traditional? I wasn’t sure, but it was definitely fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nat suddenly let out a long breath, reaching outwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed three fingers against Sherlock’s wrist and the demon then straightened, shaking his coat back over his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me if I don’t invite you in,” said Nat, her voice clipped but her body relaxing slightly. Sherlock nodded his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand. I just have a question for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nat frowned, looking at me. But I was still reeling from the weird display I’d just witnessed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock kept himself still, but I noticed his shoulders were slightly slumped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are mated to a Witch, if I’m not mistaken?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nat pulled the door tighter against her, but she nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And am I correct in saying that Witches use Blood Diamonds as their Bond-Mark?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nat cocked her head slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I watched them, absolutely lost. Sherlock’s eyes skimmed to Nat’s chest and a moment of brotherly concern washed over me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock-” I started, but the demon just put up his hand, effectively cutting me off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nat narrowed her eyes, her shoulder’s tensing again. But then she looked at me and I saw the edge of her expression soften slightly. With slow, deliberate movements, Natalie reached up to the towel around her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took hold of the hem and pulled it down a little, revealing a small red diamond embedded in her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I gasped, my eyes going wide and turning to Sherlock. The demon’s eyes were blazing with fascination, but his face was still polite and stoic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said as Nat pulled the towel back up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave a sharp nod before turning back to me. Her eyes were full of questions, but I imagined mine looked much the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock bowed to the Healer again before he turned and started down the stairs. I felt like I had whiplash, the demon moved so quick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John,” hissed Natalie, grabbing my arm and yanking me forward. “Why didn’t you tell me he was a Blood Demon?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I gaped, shaking my head and forcing myself to look at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you said he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>a</span>
  </em>
  <span> demon!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the difference?” I tried, but Nat just gave me a firm look. I felt like sinking away from it. The woman had some proper scolding-mother vibes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a big difference!” she whispered furiously. “What the fuck is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I blinked quickly, looking to the stairs again. I hadn’t heard the front door open or close, and I couldn't hear Sherlock thumping down the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you all about it later,” I insisted. Nat frowned, but she did let me go. I reached up to squeeze her shoulder before I started down the stairs. I was just about to go down the next flight when a figure caught my eye and I stopped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock was standing next to a door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My</span>
  </em>
  <span> door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon glanced at me, seeming almost… sheepish? Sherlock was a fucking rollarcoaster of emotions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is you, isn’t it?” he asked, gesturing at my door with his head. I stepped away from the stairs and towards my flat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. How did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smells of you,” he said, the corner of his lips quirking up even though his eyes looked unsure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long silence started between us and my heart jolted as I realised what he was waiting for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you… want to come in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock cracked a small smile, but all he did was nod. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Eyes Wide Shut</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for your patience, and for all the comments and kudos. I appreciate and love them all!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Excerpt from ‘The Book of Immortality’ by No One</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Chapter Seven - Seers (Videnemis)</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>A Seer is revered as a mystical being, and for centuries they were believed to be the most powerful of the Magicas - however, less and less Immortals were born with the Seer gift and this led to many false Seers. Witches or Magi would study the use of Scrying or Fortune Reading, and would pose as Seers. A natural-born Seer has the ability to see into the future through visions and dreams, as well as being able to connect to another being through touch. This power differs from person to person, depending on the connection. Some Seers have claimed that they could read the thoughts of their Partners, or family. It is uncertain what the total extent of their abilities are. Most Seers live away from civilization and often alone, due to fear installed into them during the Seer Purge.</em>
</p><hr/><p>It felt… weird having Sherlock in my tiny little flat. He was casting his eyes around, picking out Gods only knew what from my little flat. I closed the front door and went towards my kitchenette, filling up my kettle and turning it on. </p><p>“Um… tea?” I asked quietly. Sherlock turned to me and nodded. I licked my lower lip and prepped the mugs to keep my hands busy.</p><p>My mind was still reeling from Nat’s reaction, and the fact that she had the… diamond thing in her chest. </p><p>“I was right,” said the deep, baritone voice and I glanced behind my shoulder. </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“It is a tiny speck of a flat.”</p><p>I snorted through my nose as I poured the water into the mugs. </p><p>“Yep. Sugar?”</p><p>“Mm, two.”</p><p>I went through the motions, making the tea before finally walking over to Sherlock. He was looming in the middle of the room, hands by his sides and eyes raking over every inch of my space. I cleared my throat and handed him the tea. </p><p>“Thank you,” he muttered. I pulled out the desk chair before I turned and perched on the edge of my bed. </p><p>Sherlock took the chair and an awkward silence descended over us. I sipped my tea and set it on my bedside table, before leaning forward and bracing my elbows on my knees. </p><p>“So… the diamond?”</p><p>Sherlock’s hands were wrapped around the mug, but those sharp eyes met mine as I spoke. He nodded. </p><p>“Yes. It confirmed my theory.”</p><p>I nodded, before looking at the demon expectantly. When Sherlock gave me an almost blank expression, I raised an eyebrow. </p><p>“Which is…?”</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?”</p><p>Sherlock’s frown told me that to him, it was obviously obvious. But I just let out a huff of amused breath. </p><p>“Apparently not.”</p><p>Sherlock hummed under his breath, sipping at his tea. </p><p>“The diamond on the Vampyre, it is a witch’s Bond-Mark.”</p><p>Sherlock watched me steadily, rolling his eyes as he seemed to notice my confused eyes. </p><p>“Are you telling me that you don’t know what a Bond-Mark is?”</p><p>I gave him a side-smirk, shrugging my shoulders and reaching for my tea. </p><p>“I didn’t <em>say</em> anything.”</p><p>Sherlock’s lips quirked upwards, and even though my ignorance seemed to weigh on him, he still found it amusing. </p><p>“Each Immortal has a mark that they use to show others they are mated. It’s a… claim? Witches have the Blood Diamonds. They imprint them on their mates. Demons have bite marks on the inner wrists. Vampyre’s have lip imprints on the neck. Lycans have bite marks on the neck, Valkaerie have-”</p><p>“Yeah I get it. They mark each other when they bond.”</p><p>Sherlock nodded.</p><p>“The Vampyre was bonded - to a Witch. The first victim was a Witch. It’s highly likely that they were a Bonded pair, considering either one of them would have gone into a Blood Rage at the death of the other.”</p><p>I swore that Sherlock was throwing random information at me to see what I knew or what would make me feel like an idiot. And like the mind-reader he was, Sherlock saw the lack of recognition on my face immediately. </p><p>“How do you not know this?” he asked, incredulous and I huffed. </p><p>“I was raised in isolation against the other Immortals, Sherlock.”</p><p>“Doesn’t explain your lack of knowledge. Aren’t you a Doctor?”</p><p>I frowned, pursing my lips. “I know how to heal people. It doesn’t matter if they’re bonded or not.”</p><p>Sherlock sighed heavily. </p><p>“So shall I just assume that you don’t know anything that I’m talking about?”</p><p>“Probably best.”</p><p>“You’re very tiresome, John Watson.”</p><p>I smirked. “Yet you’re <em>fascinated </em>with me, Sherlock Holmes,” I quipped, echoing the words he’d said to me at the restaurant. </p><p>Sherlock narrowed his eyes but continued. </p><p>“A Blood Rage occurs only in Mates. It’s when one of the bonded pair die - the other goes into a frantic state where they either kill until they’re put down, or they fight that impulse and go insane.”</p><p>“Huh… brings a new meaning to ‘Till Death Do Us Part’.”</p><p>Sherlock let out a surprised laugh and I couldn't help but smile in return. </p><p>“Hang on,” I said, leaning forward. “You said you didn’t believe in all that mate stuff.”</p><p>“No,” said Sherlock, setting his mug on the desk. “I said I didn’t believe in Destined. Mates and Bonds are very real, and have very real consequences. I don’t believe that there’s a pre-destined soul made for each individual Immortal.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes and shuffled back on the bed, resting against the far wall. I cupped the mug in my palms, still looking at Sherlock with a hint of a smile. </p><p>“Alright. So you’re saying that if the two were Bonded, then the death of the Witch would have sent the Vampyre into that rage thing?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“So they must have killed him at the same time?” </p><p>Sherlock looked up thoughtfully, as though he was trying to understand the puzzle of the bizarre murders. </p><p>“But there’s no possible way to know that the Witch was his Mate. She was burned beyond recognition and the marking on her neck as well.”</p><p>“So we’ve not got any connection between them except a theory?” I asked and Sherlock made some kind of frustrated noise. </p><p>“Someone’s placing these bodies specifically so they’re representing the fairy tale version of the species. But why? What’s the point?”</p><p>I shrugged. “Maybe it’s… like, taking the piss?”</p><p>Sherlock turned to me, his lips curled in confusion.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>I bit the inside of my mouth. </p><p>“Well… it’s kind of derogatory, isn’t it? Not only killing these Immortals but making them look like their myths. Disrespectful and almost mocking, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Huh. I hadn’t thought of that.”</p><p>I felt a little thrill of pride and I had to clamp down on it before I started preening. Sherlock was watching me with knowing eyes, though, I cleared my throat to hide my embarrassment. </p><p>“You’re quite handy to have around, John.”</p><p>I let out a surprised giggle, the sound dangerously close to the little Fae trill. I covered it with a large gulp of my tea, wincing as it burned a trail down to my stomach.</p><p>“That’s me; handy Fae at your service.”</p><p>“Not just Fae, though.”</p><p>I snapped my mouth shut, staring intently at my mug. The room went quiet and it took Sherlock clearing his throat for me to look up again. </p><p>“I meant what I said before.”</p><p>I frowned, cocking my head slightly.</p><p>Sherlock gave me a small smile as he elaborated. “I won’t tell anyone. You <em>can</em> trust me.”</p><p>I smiled faintly in return. “I know. I already, kind of… do? As crazy as that sounds.”</p><p>“For what it’s worth, I trust you as well.”</p><p>Our eyes met, and I felt the breath catch in my throat. Those fucking <em>eyes</em>. They absolutely stopped me dead, capturing me like a bee to nectar. I felt completely trapped by them, and I could feel my heart jumping erratically behind my ribs. </p><p>Sherlock was watching me back, just as intensely, and I wondered briefly what he saw in me. </p><p>I mean, I was pretty average when it came to looks. Nothing particularly memorable. But Sherlock… he just oozed sophistication and a regal kind of handsome. His skin was like ivory and hair like ebony. He looked like he was sculpted from marble - untouchable and precious. </p><p>I opened my mouth to speak, but I saw those eyes dart down to my mouth. I swallowed thickly, my body snapping taut as Sherlock studied my lips. I wanted to… I don’t know. Tease him? Feeling bold and reckless, I slowly reached forward with my teeth and bit down on my lower lip, tugging it into my mouth and sucking on it. </p><p>I watched as Sherlock’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the way his jaw tightened and his eyes flickered black. </p><p>My breathing was shallow, slow, but my heart was racing. I didn’t know what came over us, what this was, and it was almost <em>too </em>intense. </p><p>“J-John,” muttered the demon, blinking hard but unbreaking the eye contact. </p><p>“Hm?” I asked, my eyes roaming over Sherlock’s face. I could feel heat prickling up my neck, and there was a faint smell of something sweet hanging in the air. </p><p>The demon suddenly sucked in a sharp breath and stood to his feet so quickly that the chair toppled over behind him. </p><p>“I have to go,” he announced, before he turned and practically ran from my studio.</p><p>I was left staring at the fallen chair, at the space that Sherlock had just been in… I swallowed hard a few times. It seemed hard to gather my thoughts. </p><p>Finally I moved, deciding to take a cold, cold shower. It was all I could do.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>23:13</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Apologies for leaving so suddenly. -SH</em>
</p><p> </p><p>My eyes swept over the words again and again as my body swayed within the carriage. The morning was rammed with the usual commuters, all on their bleary way to start the day. I felt exhausted, my eyelids constantly heavy and my head stuffy. I had no idea why, considering I’d gotten nine hours of sleep. </p><p>A yawn cracked my jaw before I turned back to my phone. Sherlock had messaged me last night, a few hours after he’d gone. I was already asleep by that point; out like a light the moment my head hit the pillow. </p><p>I don’t know why I was so hesitant about replying. Really, nothing had happened. There was absolutely no reason for me to be annoyed, and yet…</p><p>I clucked my tongue, slipping my phone into my pocket and watching the darkness of the Underground until I got to my stop. </p><p>I walked quickly to St Bart’s because it was spitting  rain. I got inside just as the downpour started in earnest. </p><p>Molly was pottering about the morgue when I got upstairs, and she had a bit more colour than yesterday. Although she still looked a bit off, and part of me wanted to sit her down and explain everything. But if she was this shaken from one little glimpse, what would she think about the whole world tipping on its head? </p><p>She told me about the body that had been brought here by the police last night, and I was quick to offer my assistance. </p><p>The Vampyre looked exactly the same as yesterday, like he was sleeping. The gash was more prominent though without the suit, and the jewel was still embedded in his chest. </p><p>I examined externally first, making sure to note any scars, scrapes or bruises. It didn’t surprise me that he was absolutely unblemished. The only mark on him being the gash. I was so absorbed in my examination that I didn’t hear Molly enter. </p><p>She touched my shoulder and I practically jumped out of my skin. She squeaked at the same time and the two of us ended up giggling at each other. </p><p>Molly put the cup of tea on the table by me and I thanked her, passing her over the notes I’d taken so far. I knew I needed to get the body out ASAP, preferably before she started the actual autopsy. Gods only knew what she’d find in there. </p><p>“This is just so weird,” she muttered to herself, looking over the notes. “No scars, no bruises… you’d think he would have bruised if someone had, you know, cut off his head… but cauterizing the wound? It’s just… so weird.”</p><p>I nodded in agreement as I sipped at my tea. </p><p>“Yep. Some people are just mental.”</p><p>“Hm,” she said, sitting down heavily on a stool. “I’ve not seen a body modification like this, either.”</p><p>Molly pointed at the jewel and I shrugged. </p><p>“Some new piercing craze or something.”</p><p>I turned away as she looked at me. She was so innocent and naive, but she was as sharp as a whip. I knew she saw I was deflecting, but she also doubted herself so she didn’t push.</p><p>“It makes me sad, sometimes.”</p><p>I set my mug down as she spoke, turning to her. </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>She nodded at the Vampyre. “Death is, you know, one thing but… murder is just awful. I sometimes think about the people they leave behind, you know?”</p><p>I looked over the Vampyre, about Sherlock’s theory that he had been Mated to the Witch. I liked to believe they were together somewhere. </p><p>“Me too,” I admitted, getting to my feet. “But I suppose we have to stay detached in our line of work. We’d end up drowning in sadness if we thought too hard.”</p><p>She sighed. “I know. But it’s when there’s kids involved that it really upsets me.”</p><p>I frowned, turning towards her.</p><p>“Kids?” Gods I hoped no kids had been brought in. </p><p>Molly looked at me, nodding slowly. </p><p>“Yeah, that woman from the other day - the burned one? She’d recently given birth.”</p><p>Shock jolted through me. </p><p>“What? How do you know?”</p><p>Molly frowned at my sudden change. </p><p>“She had the… the pockmarks on the inside of her pelvis… they were, they were still healing.”</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>I grabbed my phone from my pocket and walked quickly from the examination room. I ended up in the little closet as I hit ‘call’. </p><p>It rang three times before a deep, velvet voice answered. </p><p>“John?”</p><p>“Sherlock,” I almost shouted. “There was a baby. The Witch had a baby. Do we know who she is yet? Anything about her at all?”</p><p>Sherlock paused for a moment. </p><p>“How do you know?” he asked, his voice suddenly clipped. I heard a scuffle in the background, something being moved. </p><p>“She had pockmarks.”</p><p>The line went muffled again and I frowned, until Sherlock breathed down the line. </p><p>“Pockmarks?”</p><p>I blinked, running through my memory. </p><p>“They’re little pellet-like marks where the ligaments tear during childbirth. Molly said they were still healing.”</p><p>There was a slam down the line before the rush of wind and traffic got louder. Sherlock must have left wherever he was. </p><p>“That would make sense,” he said. “Immortals are vulnerable during pregnancy and birth. They lose the ability to heal quickly.”</p><p>I nodded, glancing through the door as I saw Molly walking back into the main room. I gently closed the door to, before moving further into the closet. </p><p>“Do we have any idea who she was?” I asked, my heart hammering in my chest. </p><p>“No,” was his blunt reply. “Taxi! Can you meet me in Camden?” </p><p>I glanced around. “Uh… I’m at work.”</p><p>“I could use your help for this.”</p><p>I bit the inside of my lip before I sighed heavily. </p><p>“Alright. I’ll meet you there.”</p><p>“Good.” Sherlock hung up the phone and I blew a hard breath through my lips. Before I could lose my nerve, I shoved my phone in my pocket and walked right up to where Molly was standing. </p><p>She jumped as she turned, her smile uneasy and eyes narrowing a little as she saw my expression. </p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Molly, I’ve got to go.”</p><p>“Go?” She frowned. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Yeah,” I said, shifting from foot to foot. “I, ah, I need to help Sherlock find out who the woman was.”</p><p>“S-Sherlock?”</p><p>Her eyes widened before they narrowed, and she sucked in her lower lip. When she looked up at me again, her soft brown eyes were filled with confusion and surprise. </p><p>“Why - why are you helping Sherlock?”</p><p>My face softened and I wanted to explain everything to her. As it was, I didn’t have the time to think of an easy way to break it to her. </p><p>Immortality. I didn’t know how to explain <em>Immortality</em> to her. Not Sherlock’s… preferences. If he even had them. I didn’t really know him. </p><p>“I can’t really explain, but I do really need to go. I’m sorry, I’ll put in my extra hours tomorrow. I’ll do all the paperwork.”</p><p>I gave her a small smile before I turned and headed to the lockers. She was still standing there, trying to process what I had said.</p><hr/><p>About a half hour later I was climbing out of a taxi I couldn't really afford, looking around a town I didn’t really know. I stepped to the side of the curb before I pulled out my phone. It still felt a bit unreal, meeting up with Sherlock to fight crime. But I somehow felt responsible for the witch and this kid. </p><p>An Immortal child was a rare thing, and a half-breed even more so. If we didn’t find this baby first then someone else would, and they wouldn’t be so kind. </p><p>“John.”</p><p>“Jesus!” I yelped, nearly launching my phone onto the pavement. I turned and saw Sherlock hovering. I narrowed my eyes before shoving my phone in my pocket, my heart still dancing from the fright. </p><p>“Stop fucking doing that!”</p><p>“Follow me.”</p><p>Sherlock turned on his heel and I rolled my eyes, jumping into step just behind him. We walked through a few side streets and alleys until we stopped at the end of a long row of terraced houses. They lined each side of the road, all exactly the same and squeezed together. I turned to Sherlock, frowning, but the demon was already looking up and down the road. </p><p>“I’ll take the right, you take the left.”</p><p>“What-” Sherlock had already crossed the road, leaving me standing there like a pleb. I waved my arms. </p><p>“What am I supposed to be doing?” I called, but Sherlock either didn’t hear me or was ignoring me. I scoffed and watched as he stepped up to the first house. </p><p>The demon knocked on, and the door was answered by a young woman. It was almost immediately slammed in his face and he sighed, before walking out of the little front garden and into the next one. </p><p>He gave me a pointed look and I pinched the bridge of my nose. </p><p>I didn’t know exactly what I was supposed to say, but I still turned and walked up to the first door. </p><p>As I got closer, the smell of sage and jasmine started to waft towards me. I tilted my head as I knocked on the door, hearing something inside the house stop playing. I licked my lower lip as the door was wrenched open. </p><p>The smell hit me like a bullet and I winced. </p><p>Herbs and medicines, as well as that sickly sweet pang of magic. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>The woman at the door looked young, but her eyes were incredibly old. I realised very quickly that I was talking to an Immortal, and by the pentagram medallion around her throat I knew she was a Witch. </p><p>“Uh, hi… My name is-”</p><p>“I’m not buying anything,” she snapped, before she stepped back and slammed the door in my face. My eyes were wide and a little watery after that blast of stink. </p><p>I slowly turned and walked from the house and to the next. </p><p>Each house was the same. The exact same smell, some more potent than others. And each different woman that answered reacted the same, slamming the door in my face. I turned to look across the street now and then, and Sherlock looked like he was getting the same reaction. </p><p>As I stood at the front door of the last house, I turned to see Sherlock waiting at the door opposite. He looked at me, before he gave me a thumbs up and my face contorted in confusion. </p><p>The door was suddenly wrenched open and I jumped, turning around quickly. I hadn’t even knocked yet. </p><p>The woman standing there was by far the strangest looking one. She looked like she was wrapped up in twenty different pieces of brightly coloured material, and her dirty blonde hair was stringy and messy. </p><p>There was a faint smell of herbs about her, but nothing like the others. Her features were soft and could have been pretty if it wasn’t for the odd, burn-like markings maring her face. </p><p>But what made my jaw hang open were the bright white eyes staring at me. I had never seen eyes like them. No faint silhouette of irises behind the white, there was just… nothing.</p><p>She was smiling at me, a crooked, unsettling kind of grin. </p><p>“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, her voice crackled and hoarse as though from disuse. I frowned.</p><p>“Um, what?”</p><p>She chuckled before she turned her back to me, stepping into the house while gesturing at me to follow with one heavily jewelled hand.</p><p>I glanced around, looking behind me, but Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. My frown deepened and I looked hesitantly into the eerily dark hallway. I could see a light at the end, but it seemed to be shrouded by something. </p><p>“John…” called the voice from inside and despite my better judgement, I stepped into the house. I got halfway down the hall before the front door slammed shut, making me nearly jump out of my skin. </p><p>“In here, darling.”</p><p>Steeling myself, I walked into the room and looked around. There was more material hanging across the walls, from the ceiling, over the lamp. It looked like I’d just stepped into some kind of bizarre stall. </p><p>I could just about make out two chair shapes and a table in the middle of the room and for a moment I didn’t even see the odd-eyed woman sitting in one. She looked like part of all the silks. </p><p>Her sightless eyes seemed to be watching me and I had to repress a shiver. She smiled and chuckled, twisting something in her hands.</p><p>“I’ve been waiting a while for you,” she said, gesturing at the empty chair opposite her. I swallowed thickly before I slowly sank down. This was too weird for me to ignore, and hadn’t she just called me by my name? </p><p>I opened my mouth to ask just this, but I was cut off by a hand in front of my face. </p><p>“Wait.”</p><p>I narrowed my eyes, feeling like an animal being back into a corner. She laughed again. </p><p>“You’re in no harm here, John. I’ve known you would be coming since the day you were born, but I couldn't ever really see when.” She shrugged. “It can be like that sometimes.”</p><p>“What can?” I asked, butting in before she could stop me again. She leaned back, as though she was examining me. </p><p>“The Sight, darling.”</p><p>“The…?” Why was that so familiar?</p><p>She smirked. “Think hard, John. You’ve heard it before.”</p><p>My lips were pursed, but I did start searching my memories. I remembered something about it… like I’d read it somewhere before? </p><p>The woman chuckled, shaking her head. </p><p>“I’m a Seer, John.”</p><p>I looked at her, blinking quickly, but she was studying something in her palm. When I saw some kind of deck of cards, I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. </p><p>“Going to give me a reading?” I asked, a little more sarcastically than I’d intended. Those eyes flickered upwards and she gave me a toothy grin. </p><p>“Spending too much time with that Sherlock, eh?”</p><p>I jolted, my eyes narrowing. How did this woman know so much? And how was she reading my mind? Everything about the situation was sparking my natural fight or flight instinct, and I could feel a stirring in my chest. </p><p>The Seer narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, her unseeing eyes settling on my chest. </p><p>“It’s waking.”</p><p>I tilted my head. “Huh?”</p><p>“The wolf inside you. It’s waking.”</p><p>My heart dropped to my feet and I found myself getting up quickly. My breathing was shallow and my heart felt like it was lodged in my throat. My eyes scanned the room for a means of quick escape, but before I could move, something touched my arm.</p><p>I bore my teeth and growled deeply, a warning to back away. </p><p>But the Seer didn’t move her hand, instead tightening her grip. Her eyes seemed impossibly white, like they were glowing, and it was menacing even if her expression was soft. </p><p>“Calm, John,” she cooed, placing her hand on my chest, right where I could feel the writhing of the creature as it reacted to my emotions. I gasped as I felt something tingling against my skin, and the fluttering movements inside me started to… pur? It nuzzled against my chest, as though trying to get closer to the hand resting against me. </p><p>“How - how are you doing that?” I gasped, and the Seer smiled faintly. </p><p>“I am no threat. Your wolf knows this. Trust it, and come sit. We have much to discuss and not much time to do so.”</p><p>Her hand finally moved away and the creature curled around itself in my chest, before stilling completely. </p><p>My limbs felt heavy and my hands trembled, but I slowly sank back down into my chair as the Seer did the same. </p><p>She laid the cards on top of the small table, spreading them out like a fan. </p><p>“Pick one,” she instructed. I was still confused, and a little worried, but I reached forward and pulled one of the cards from the deck. She held out her hand and I passed it over, watching her face intently for some kind of explanation. </p><p>The Seer smiled faintly, placing the card down in front of me. The picture was beautifully designed, with soft curves and bright colours. It looked like two people embracing, and I looked up at the Seer with an eyebrow raised. </p><p>“The Lovers,” she said knowingly, which made me fidget uncomfortably. “There is a lover in your future, but I think you already know that. It’s a perfect balance of energies, of partnership. Not many Immortals get this card,” she said softly, placing the card aside. “The gods have put your Mate in your path. Be thankful.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes when the Seer wasn’t watching, but I heard her tut as though she’d seen anyway. </p><p>“Another.”</p><p>I took a deep breath and drew another card, handing it over to her without hesitation. Her faint smile stayed on her lips as she put the card down in front of me. </p><p>“Justice,” she said. “There’s truth in your future, but the gods haven’t clarified to me as to what. Truth of you parents, perhaps? Truth of your upbringing?”</p><p>I frowned.</p><p>“My parents?”</p><p>“Haven’t you ever wondered what happened to your mother, Laila? Why she sent you to <em>Cathair Mor</em>?”</p><p>“I…” I did used to wonder, when I was young. But I was told she died giving birth to me, and had accepted it as truth. Now that certainty was upside down, leaving me feeling like I was suspended in limbo. </p><p>“And your father.”</p><p>“My father?”</p><p>The Seer smiled sadly. “The story is not as it seems. You must find your father.”</p><p>“He’s… alive?” I gasped. </p><p>As the Seer opened her mouth to reply, there was a sudden hard banging from down the hall. </p><p>“John? John are you in there?”</p><p>Sherlock’s voice was deep, carrying through the hall and right into my gut. I turned to the Seer, but she hadn’t seemed to have noticed. She gestured to the cards again. </p><p>“One more, John.”</p><p>“John? John!” More banging. I pursed my lips but quickly pulled out a card, turning to look down the hallway as I handed it over to her. </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>I turned my head back, frowning as I saw the Seer staring intently at the card. She looked almost… sad. </p><p>“The Hanged Man,” she said softly, placing the card down. The man in the picture was being hung from a golden rope, and I felt my heart drop. </p><p>“Sacrifice. Release. Martyrdom. There is a sacrifice in your future.”</p><p>I opened my mouth, the banging getting louder and Sherlock’s voice more frantic. </p><p>“Is it supposed to be a - a physical sacrifice?” I asked, my breathing shallow. The Seer looked at me, her white eyes burning into my own. </p><p>“Normally I would say not necessarily, but… I feel it in my soul, John. Sacrifice is in your future. Real sacrifice.”</p><p>I took a shuddering breath as the Seer raised her hand and there was a swinging crash and thump in the hall, before a rush of movement. I turned my head as Sherlock stumbled into the room, throwing his head around. </p><p>When he saw me sitting with the Seer, the demon narrowed his eyes. </p><p>“John. Why didn’t you answer, are you alright?”</p><p>I blinked, looking down at the card. </p><p>“Yeah - yeah. I’m fine.”</p><p>The Seer leaned back, looking Sherlock up and down. The demon seemed to notice her, and his spine straightened. </p><p>“Morwenna.”</p><p>“Sherlock.”</p><p>I frowned. “You know each other?”</p><p>Morwenna chuckled as Sherlock seemed to bristle, before he reached down and grabbed my arm. </p><p>“We’re leaving, John.”</p><p>I tried to protest, wanting to know more about the Seer, but Sherlock lifted me effortlessly from the seat and yanked me forward. </p><p>“Oh, Sherlock,” she called, halting the demon in his tracks. His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn. </p><p>“She was called Evangeline Tarrow. Her mate was Malacai Ysmor. Their child is safe in Evangeline’s realm. The baby will be brought into the coven when she’s of age.”</p><p>Sherlock tilted his head a little, listening without looking. I turned to the Seer, watching how she studied the demon with a knowing smirk. </p><p>“You must stop these killings, Sherlock. The gods are making the half-breeds for a reason. Do not let their will come undone.”</p><p>Sherlock scoffed before he yanked me further down the hall, out into the dwindling daylight, until he released me and started to storm down the street. </p><p>“Wait, Sherlock!” I called, running to catch up with him. I fell into step with him, but his face was unreadable, and no amount of coaxing could get him to speak. </p><p>We ended up in a taxi, sitting in an awkward silence. </p><p>After about twenty minutes, and far too much time trying to decipher whatever the fuck the Seer had said to me, I turned to the demon. </p><p>“You need to talk to me, or I’m done.”</p><p>Sherlock’s head snapped over to me, and I gave him a levelled look. He narrowed his eyes, the bright green-grey searching over my face, probably for truth. I kept my expression open. </p><p>“I’m tired of not understanding everything. If you’re not going to talk to me, what’s the point in me helping you? I’m not just going to sit here while you sulk.”</p><p>The demon ran his tongue over his lower lip, and I instinctively followed the movement before I caught myself and snapped my eyes back up. </p><p>“Baker Street,” called the demon, and the driver nodded. I cocked my head, looking over Sherlock curiously. </p><p>“I want to show you something,” he explained, his velvet voice soft and almost shy. “And I’ll explain.”</p><p>I huffed out a tired breath, before I nodded and leaned back in the seat. I wouldn’t necessarily get answers to my own weird reading, but maybe Sherlock could shine some light on whether this woman was the real deal, or whether she was a nutjob. But from the way Sherlock reacted… it felt like it would be the former. </p>
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